Susuharai/Soot-sweeping
by Paul Corrigan
Summary: The Arimas and the Miyazawas observe the New Year.


This is, as will be soon clear, technically a New Year fic; I am posting it   
here, however, because it might be of general interest in spite of that. It   
should be a bit more self contained than was "STILLE NACHT," though it  
might help if you read that first to follow what's happening here. With  
luck what follows should be more accessible to those who have seen less of   
the series as well; a few characters (mostly Arima's relations) only appear  
later in the series, but little is revealed of them there, and nothing,  
I think, that can't be gathered from this.  
  
If you haven't read "STILLE NACHT," or do not wish to, the "PLAYBACK"  
should get you somewhat up to speed.  
  
The English rewrite of "_Yume no Naka e_" ("Into the Middle of a Dream")  
is mine. It was written from a literal translation from the Pero Pero  
Anime fansub.  
  
Two things I'd like feedback on: my accuracy in portraying Shogatsu/New  
Year customs; and Arima's imagery, which is a bit purple even when his  
state of mind is allowed for. If either are worse than you can bear, let  
me know.  
  
Comments always welcome. Thanks to Amelia Corrigan, Julian Fong, "Ukyou   
Kuonji," and Chris Siebenmann for comments on earlier drafts of this story   
and of "STILLE NACHT."  
  
Paul Corrigan  
corrig11@pilot.msu.edu  
  
---  
  
Then Jesus' mother and brothers arrived. Standing outside, they sent  
someone in to call him. A crowd was sitting around him, and they told  
him, "Your mother and brothers are outside looking for you."  
"Who are my mother and my brothers?" he asked. Then he looked at  
those seated in a circle around him and said, "Here are my mother and my  
brothers! Whoever does God's will is my brother and sister and mother."  
  
--Mark 3:31-35  
  
AKITO: What's wrong with running away?  
  
--_Martian Successor Nadesico_, episode 1, 1997  
  
---  
  
And now, kids, since you've all been naughty, it's time for  
  
PLAYBACK  
  
A wrap up of what has gone before!  
With your hosts, Yukino Miyazawa's little sisters, Tsukino and Kano!  
  
Kano: 15-year-old Yukino Miyazawa, creature of earth, sometime Queen of  
Vanity of Hokuei Prefectural High School in Kawasaki, Japan, and our  
older sister, had her debut at Hokuei High derailed by Soichiro Arima,  
the scion of a wealthy family of doctors, and a thoroughbred in every  
sense of the word!  
  
Tsukino: Through a twist of fate that need not concern us here, Soichiro  
Arima was the first to whom Yukino's true vain, self-centered nature was  
revealed, and as a result it was to her that he first revealed his true  
self. Together they made a pledge to no longer hide behind masks of  
perfection. Hence they became friends...  
  
Kano: Then more than friends...  
  
Both: And then _boyfriend and girlfriend!_  
  
Tsukino: I want a boyfriend too.  
  
Kano: Why, what's wrong with Yurika?  
  
Tsukino: Shorn of her mask, Yukino found it surprisingly easy to become  
initiated into the world of friends...  
  
Kano: And both were initiated into the world of love, which at last led  
to their first...  
  
Both: CHRISTMAS DATE!  
  
Kano: However, upon their return to the Miyazawa household Yukino and  
Arima found Yukino's little sisters asleep, giving Yukino the  
opportunity to make this a truly lovey-dovey Christmas Eve for herself  
and her beau, and as Kano, the youngest but most beautiful sister,  
listened to their lovemaking as she feigned sleep, she yearned then and  
for the rest of the night for the touch of her secret love Hideaki  
Asaba...!  
  
Tsukino: EW!  
  
Kano: What? We're both women of the world, Tsukino.  
  
Tsukino: That's not what you told Sis!  
  
Kano: Well, no, duh, I value my life.  
  
Tsukino: Anyway, Arima expressed his fear of his relations, his fear of  
unworthiness to have Yukino, and his desire to flee away with Yukino to  
the Promised Land of America, and it fell to Yukino to bring him to his  
senses and calm him, and reassure him of her love. Perhaps in an attempt  
to do just this, she invited him to our house for the New Year.  
  
Kano: Alas, to her great disappointment, Soichiro Arima, feeling obliged  
to face his relations rather than lose face, declined, and with that set  
off for his own home. Worse, he had been expected home an hour and a  
half previously!  
  
Both: Soichiro Arima! Your sacrifice and service on the behalf of our  
older sister shall not have been in vain!  
  
Kano: Which is all very well...  
  
Both: EXCEPT...!  
  
---  
_Susuharai_/Soot-sweeping  
---  
A _Kareshi Kanojo no Jijo_ ("_Karekano_") fanfic by Paul Corrigan  
---  
_Karekano_ concept devised by Masami Tsuda  
---  
  
New Year's Eve has always been an important occasion, never more in any  
household, perhaps, than in the Arima family. My father is my late  
grandfather's eldest son, which made him the head of our branch of the  
family. Hence it has fallen to our home to be the gathering place for my  
relatives who come from far and wide to observe the New Year in our home  
town.  
  
They start to arrive in the early evening, from six to eight o'clock,  
all in their best suits, dresses and kimonos. Once there they exchange  
pleasantries with each other and with mother and father for several  
hours, while drinking a little sweet sake and eating _toshikoshi_ New  
Year soba noodles. Later, about half past ten or eleven o'clock, we will  
leave the house with them and drive to the family temple.  
  
The temple is in a nearby city that we still consider our hometown, even  
though none of my branch of the family actually still reside there. As  
it is we drive there out of necessity, the distance making walking  
impractical, and most of my older relations consider taking the train  
beneath them. Once they get there, about half an hour later, they remain  
there until about half past one, praying to the family spirits and  
listening to the 108 tolls of the temple bell at midnight, which takes  
about an hour itself. After that we return to our house, where they will  
converse and drink sake long into the night; they invariably spend the  
night with us, and make their ways home in the early afternoon New  
Year's Day.  
  
I have my winter break from school, of course, on and around New Year's.  
Father, on the other hand, is still extremely busy at the hospital until  
the afternoon of New Year's Eve, when he will come home early. Hence I  
am generally the only one able to give much help to mother as she  
prepares the house for New Year's Eve. To be sure, most of the jobs are  
not so onerous. Putting out the _kudomatsu_ New Year decoration on our  
porch, or the _shimenawa_ rice-straw rope wards on the door, one person  
(usually myself) can do easily in a few minutes. Mother prefers to do  
the cooking by herself, for her own reasons, so I am excused from that  
duty. The real burden, for a family with a house as large as ours, is  
the _susuharai_ New Year housecleaning, which takes two people several  
days, and my letting mother do it by herself would not be an option even  
if she did not oblige me to help. Mother's heart is weak, and the stress  
of the New Year is bad enough.  
  
It is not an obligation that mother, father and I have ever enjoyed, and  
not just because of the effort involved, which is bearable, or the  
burden of entertaining our large family, which is after all only for one  
evening. It is at New Year's that my family are most vehement in  
expressing their resentment at my adoption by my father and mother. Sake  
makes them even crueler than usual. One year, when I was younger--I do  
not recall at exactly what age, but I think I was eight--aunt Eiko, my  
father's twin sister, and mother were conversing as I stood there  
watching. Aunt Eiko noticed me standing there. She said to my mother,  
"You have done a splendid job of the housecleaning as always, Shizume."  
  
"Thank you," mother said.  
  
"However--forgive me for saying this--you never seem to finish sweeping  
out all the soot. Perhaps you and brother should remove to a smaller  
house. It would be easier to maintain."  
  
If Mother understood, she never said so. The remark had several  
interpretations, and was for that matter one of aunt Eiko's milder  
remarks at my expense. However, I understood aunt Eiko completely.  
  
So every year after that I swept myself out. Mother, father and I had an  
unwritten agreement that I should remain in my room after they had all  
arrived and we had greeted them all (in my case for little purpose, for  
only my cousins, aunt Eiko's sons, greet me back, and only to mock me),  
and remain there until they left the next day, except when we must go to  
the temple, when, at least for appearance's sake, I cannot refuse to  
accompany them. Even then they shun me. I do my best to keep my mind on  
my own prayers and ignore them back. I was not always successful. In  
many years, especially when I was younger, my prayers amounted to  
wishing curses among my relations in the New Year, often highly creative  
ones at that.  
  
I exaggerate slightly. One year I did refuse. Hideaki Asaba lives by  
himself, never going home even for the new year. He invited me to pass  
New Year's Eve with him. At first I refused politely, but when everyone  
had shown up at the house New Year's Eve and it was time to go to the  
temple, I emerged from my room to be greeted by some cutting remark by  
one of my cousins, I forget what exactly. For some reason I got angry,  
and I announced to him and the rest of the family, in as cold a voice as  
I could muster, that I had other plans with a fellow called Asaba, and  
they should go on without me.  
  
My cousin said, "Oh yeah? That's cool, no big loss. You wanna spend your  
New Year's with your boyfriend, I'm cool, it's the Nineties. 'Nighty-  
night, fag-boy. Don't let the door hit your sweet ass on the way out.  
Happy New Year."  
  
Aunt Eiko just said, "How nice. Do us all a favor and stay away, boy."  
  
Mother and father just stood there stunned, and said nothing. They said,  
later, that they were horrified less at my own rudeness than at that of  
my relatives, and, for that matter, at the prospect of having to go to  
the temple without me. In the whole family, they said, I was the only  
one with whom they felt they truly belonged at the temple on that night.  
That is at least possible, but I am sure I must have shocked as much, if  
not more, by my coldness, and for that matter at my losing my temper to  
such a degree, because I was shocked myself when I realized what I had  
said. Possibly they were even shocked at aunt Eiko's deigning to speak  
to me at all. I do not know if she was insulted by my refusal as such,  
or by my daring to speak to the family in that manner.  
  
At any rate, my remaining now would have been more humiliating than my  
leaving, so I put on my coat and shoes and went to Hideaki's to spend  
the night, as I had said I had planned to do. I returned New Year's Day,  
well into the afternoon so as to be sure I could avoid facing the  
relations, if not mother and father. For their part mother and father  
were understandably very upset at me, and forced me to promise never to  
do such a thing again.  
  
It was just as well. This is beside the point, but what transpired at  
Hideaki's was not pleasant either. Just why I have no right to tell, and  
as I said, is beside the point.  
  
The point is that I have never taken pleasure in the New Year. Neither  
have my parents, and now and again mother lets slip her anxieties. Last  
year, Mother asked me to put up the _shimenawa_ when I was studying. I  
protested, not terribly strongly I thought, that I was not quite  
finished with a certain mathematical problem, and could it not wait  
until I was done. She replied testily, "I know it won't really keep out  
the evil spirits, Soichiro, but it must be done anyway!"  
  
I returned very late from my date on Christmas Eve with Yukino Miyazawa,  
much later than I had planned. I was to return at one in the morning,  
but I did not actually arrive until after three in the morning. Mother  
was still awake, sitting in the front room in her nightgown, sipping tea  
and apparently staring into space. I say apparently, because she had  
left only one light on in the room, so she sat in shadow that partly  
obscured her face, so I could not discern her expression very well.  
  
When I announced I was home she said only, "It is very late."  
  
"Yes, mother," I said. "I'm sorry."  
  
"I need to start the _susuharai_ tomorrow morning. Perhaps it is  
useless, but even so I had wanted to start early. We will not get much  
done if we are both tired."  
  
Her voice was very even, even in the fashion that one cannot tell if it  
expresses utter indifference or utter fury. As a result I did not know  
how to respond. So all I said was, "Yes, mother. I suppose you're  
right."  
  
She said nothing else, so I added, "I had better get to bed. We both  
have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Good night, mother."  
  
"Good night," she said.  
  
I went straight to bed. I do not know when she finally went herself, and  
I did not ask. She never mentioned it again.  
  
---  
  
I did not see Yukino Miyazawa again before New Year's Eve. I was too  
busy helping mother prepare the house, and studying for the new term  
when I was not.  
  
New Year's Eve played out at first in its usual fashion. When Father  
came home early that day, the cleaning was as complete as it was going  
to be. There was nothing left to do but change into our best clothes,  
Father into his best suit, Mother into her best kimono, and myself into  
my best school uniform, and wait for them to arrive. We have the same  
conversation every New Year's Eve. Father wondered aloud how his family  
could be so cruel. Mother reassured him that he was nothing like them,  
and thanked whoever decides these things for that. I reassured them that  
I'd be just fine.  
  
The first ring on the doorbell was our cue to assume our roles as good  
hosts. ("Get into character," Miyazawa's friend Aya Sawada always says.)  
Mother and I greeted each aunt and uncle as they came in; Mother was  
greeted back, I was not. Even the cousins said nothing to me, at least  
as they came in. They kept their mouths shut about me in front of father  
and mother, perhaps for fear of angering them. It is only when I am  
alone with the cousins that they use me for sport. Then, when everyone  
had arrived my parents stayed downstairs to entertain them, while I  
exited stage right, my role complete for now, and retired upstairs to my  
room in the attic. I have various ways of occupying my time. Some years,  
I have studied, or, when I was feeling particularly defiant, I played  
loud music. That had the added advantage of blocking out the  
conversation downstairs, not because of a particular fear of any cutting  
remarks at my expense--the worst did not begin until after we returned  
from temple, and they had begun drinking in earnest--but because it  
allowed me to forget they were there at all. Most years, however, as that  
year, I lay in the dark, face up on my futon, my hands tucked under my  
head, studied the rafters in the dim light and silently cursed the day I  
was born.  
  
I despised my cousins as much as I did the rest of my family, with the  
exception of mother and father, but they at least, I thought, respected  
my privacy once I had retreated upstairs. For all that I was not unduly  
irritated when my cousins came upstairs, around quarter past nine. It  
would be self-centered, in a way, to think they had come up stairs just  
to make sport of me. A better, because more mundane, explanation is  
curiosity, coupled with boredom. I doubt there was much of interest for  
them to hear downstairs, and they had never seen my room before. At any  
rate, when the light came on, I did not stop them from entering. For  
that matter I did not move at all, but kept looking at the ceiling while  
they nosed around the room. So I could not see them as they did so, but  
had to infer from context, just what they were.  
  
"May we come in, Soichiro?" Keitaro, the eldest of aunt Eiko's sons. He  
is eighteen, plans to attend college I forget where. To his credit he is  
the best of them, and occasionally defends me from his brothers, or  
rather calls them off, admittedly in the most backhanded fashion  
possible.  
  
"Not like it matters, man, 'cause we're coming in anyway. DA-amn! Nice  
joint you got here! I should be so lucky!" The second, Hideki.  
Seventeen. I heard them enter.  
  
"Uncle spoils him, doesn't he?" said Keitaro.  
  
"Old man's a pushover, is why. Shit! Fuck that, Hideki, what I could do  
with a place like this! I can see it now! The Yukio Arima Penthouse of  
Love!" The youngest, perhaps the worst. My age. For some reason I  
flinched slightly despite myself. "Add a wet bar and we are made!"  
  
"Yah right, Hugh Hefner." Hideki. "Like they'd even show. They'd laugh  
their asses off like they always do."  
  
"Fuck you, man!" Yukio laughed. "You're right, though I'd need a draw of  
some sort. Hey, I know! Soichiro!"  
  
"Soichiro?"  
  
"Yeah, dude, we can, like, make him the Gimp! Keep him in the closet or  
something, and tell the chicks if they wanna meet him, they gotta come  
over, and when I need a beer or something, he can take over. I mean come  
on, he's purty enough. Some chicks are into faggoty looking types.  
Pretty men and shit, you know? Even a fuck-up like him gotta come in  
useful now and again!"  
  
"You're one sick bastard, you know that, little brother?"  
  
"Uh, yeah! Who isn't? Oh yeah! Almost forgot! He's a fag himself, ain't  
he? Hey, Soichiro! Never got around to asking you. Your butt-buddy,  
what's his name--"  
  
"Asaba, I think," supplied Hideki.  
  
"Yeah! Don't take this the wrong way, man, but I'm kinda curious what  
you guys do. So like, does he spit or swallow?"  
  
Naturally I did not respond.  
  
"Hey, asshole! My brother's talking to you!"  
  
"Leave him alone," said Keitaro. "You're making me feel nauseous."  
  
"Okay, fine, whatever," said Hideki. "Don't answer, man, not like we  
care." I heard him pace around the room, apparently inspecting it. "I  
dunno, I'd just like the room, myself. When his old man throws his sorry  
ass out maybe I could stay here and commute to Tokyo to go to college  
and shit, you know? Need somewhere to crash. Nice enough library for it.  
Lessee what we have here. _War and Peace_, _Tale of Two Cities_, _Tale  
of Genji_...so like, you're into historical novels and shit? 'k, that's  
cool, I guess. Tolkien? Very nice. Ooh! Ooh! Dostoyevsky! Go in for the  
heavy stuff, dontcha?"  
  
"Hey, come on, uncle said he was an overachiever and shit," said Yukio.  
"'Sides, it's not like he probably has loadsa friends. Unless you count  
his 'constant companion,' or whatever they hell they call them. I  
dunno." He put on an unpleasantly effeminate voice. "'I think all gay  
men are lonely.'"  
  
"You still thinking about that? Stay away from me, man!"  
  
"Dude, I read that in this magazine article about, I don't know,  
'Today's Young People and the LBGT Question' or some PC shit like that,  
and I'm like, 'Get a life!'"  
  
"Man, why were you reading that shit anyway?"  
  
"Someone'd left it on the train and I had nothing better to do, a'right?  
Hey, Soichiro, you wanna contribute or something? You don't talk much,  
do you?"  
  
"Nah, he don't. You can just see it, though, can't you?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I just had a vision of him all pale and consumptive and shit, dressed  
all in black, and sitting all by his lonesome in a coffeehouse or  
somewhere reading Jung or _Nietzsche_ or some fucked-up shit like that.  
Can't you? I mean, look at the guy, lying in the fucking dark like some  
tortured genius on his damn futon! Who the hell's he tryin' to kid, huh?  
Shit, I dunno."  
  
"How would you know?" said Keitaro. "Jung and Nietzsche aren't 'fucked-  
up shit.' They're very important thinkers. _Thus Spake Zarathustra_ is a  
classic. Better than anything you read."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, brainiac. Wait. Rewind. wasn't that the opening theme song  
to _2001_?" asked Hideki.  
  
"Yeah!" Yukio joined in. "Hey! It _is_ 2001 coming up, ain't it?  
Dum...dum..._dum_...du-DUM! Hey, looky here!"  
  
On my desk is a picture of all of us, myself, Miyazawa, Hideaki,  
Tsubasa, and all of Tsubasa's friends (who, I suppose, are now  
Miyazawa's as well), from when we all went to the beach this summer.  
Maho Isawa came as well, at Miyazawa's insistence, but she is not in it,  
because it fell to her to actually take the photo.  
  
That was all right with Maho Isawa. "I don't do group shots," she said  
then.  
  
I heard Yukio pick the picture up. "Damn, this boy is _fine_!" Hideaki.  
He had his arm around my shoulder and was making a stupid expression.  
"His pecs are perfect. Oh yes, he will be mine. Yo, Soichiro, you wanna  
give me his number?"  
  
"Dude, you're scaring the shit out of me, all right, this is no longer  
even fucking funny. Cut it out."  
  
"Aw come on, Hideki, I'm just fucking around, a'right? Jeez."  
  
"So like, how do you know it's him anyway?"  
  
"I mean, come on, dude, look at the guy! Blonde highlights? Perfect tan?  
Takes way too much care of himself. Dude, this is not a good sign."  
  
"I know a guy with blonde highlights in his hair. He's got a girl."  
  
"Two words, 'fag hag.'"  
  
"Dude, face it, you don't know what you're talking about! I mean, come  
on, all those chicks are probably, like, his harem or something..."  
  
"Even the one who's like, ten?" Tsubasa, standing in front of Miyazawa  
and myself, behaving herself and looking cute. "Dude, you sure you wanna  
go there?"  
  
"Could be his little sister or something."  
  
"Yeah. If it is he's in deep shit!" Yukio laughed at his own joke as if  
it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. I gritted my teeth.  
  
"Dude, that's just fucking sick, a'right?"  
  
"Guys, that's enough," said Keitaro. "Let's go, mother's probably  
wondering where we are. We're done here."  
  
"No, we're not, dude," said Yukio, "we ain't done checking out Asaba's  
harem yet."  
  
"Could be Soichiro's, dude. Stranger things have happened. I mean that  
chick's clinging to him, they don't say 'main squeeze' for nothing,"  
Hideki went on. He must have meant Miyazawa. "Anyway, that other chick's  
just short, I figure. I mean, look, you can see she's got tits...  
sorta..."  
  
"Okay, now _that_ chick is not a member of the harem. She's got 'dyke'  
written all over her face." Tsubaki Sakura, her arms around Aya Sawada  
and Rika Sena, and looking terribly proud of the fact. "Looks mighty  
fit, though. Flexible, if ya know what I mean." He snickered. "I  
wouldn't mind trying to save her..."  
  
"Oh yah right. That ain't how it works, pal. She'd just kick your ass  
into low earth orbit. _2001_, shit. 'My god, it's full of stars...'"  
  
"Guy can dream, can't he? Wonder which one's her 'sister?'" Yukio  
snickered.  
  
"Gotta be the one with the Gothy looking hairdo." Aya Sawada, I presume.  
On Tsubaki's left, not wanting to be there. "The scary looking ones are  
always dykes. You know the type, sitting at the back of the  
coffeehouse..."  
  
"With Soichiro?"  
  
"Yeah!" Hideki laughed. "You don't know, man! And writing feminist  
poetry crap and stuff. Man, you don't want to cure this chick. My rule  
is, never sleep with anyone crazier than yourself."  
  
"So, what, this is Soichiro's harem after all?"  
  
"How do you figure that?"  
  
"I mean, come on, dude. Who's the biggest fuck-up you know?"  
  
"Yeah. Oh, yeah! Good point, man!" More laughter, mutual this time.  
  
Yukio resumed. "Anyway, I don't know man, Goth's cool. Nice rack, too.  
Jesus, what's with the other one? Wearing fucking barrettes at the  
beach?" Rika Sena, on Tsubaki's right, standing straight, all smiles.  
Miyazawa says she's the calmest person she's ever met. "And smiling like  
she's fucking retarded or something. What's that?"  
  
"Takes one to know one, mi amigo."  
  
"Fuck you!" They both laughed. "Hm. Okay, the chick hanging on to  
Soichiro, now she is hot."  
  
"I dunno. Kinda goofy expression, probably a nut-job like the rest of  
them. Nice face, though, I guess. Figure needs work though."  
  
"What you talking about man? She's a fucking goddess! Name the place,  
name the time, I'm there! Shit, what's his secret?"  
  
"I dunno, man, you wanna try, be my guest. I mean, if she'd do it with  
the likes of Soichiro...like I said, nobody crazier than yourself. Not a  
good sign, my friend. I mean, knowing what you know about Soichiro,  
would _you_ do him?...Wait, no, don't answer that, man, just forgot I  
was talking to you..."  
  
"Guys, cut it out," said Keitaro. I thought I was keeping my expression  
under control, but he sounded a little nervous. "You don't know her.  
Come on, how do you know she knows anything about him? Probably all she  
knows is he's rich. If she's so good looking, she probably had other  
choices than him. I wouldn't undersell myself, would you?"  
  
"Yeah, man," Hideki again. "High maintenance. Bloodsuckers. Chicks like  
that are bad news. Trust me, I've been there, I know."  
  
"Hey, that ain't so bad if you've got the dough!" Yukio. "Chicks ain't  
cars, you know. The more servicing they need, the better!" He laughed  
out loud.  
  
"That's not what I mean, dumbass!"  
  
"No shit, Sherlock, you think I'm retarded? Jeez. Hm. You know, man, I  
was just thinking. If she _is_ high maintenance, poor ol' Soichiro ain't  
gonna be able to keep up the payments when he hits the road. Hey,  
Soichiro!"  
  
For the first time Yukio and Hideki walked into my line of sight, Hideki  
on my left, Yukio on my right. Their expressions were deadly serious.  
  
"Soichiro, my good man." Yukio's language was friendly but unusually  
formal. "My older brother and I were discussing how to divide your goods  
when Uncle came to his senses and flung you out of his house, and we  
were arguing over who should have your room." Yukio held up the picture  
and pointed out Miyazawa. "However, my brother will get more use out of  
it, and I, on the other hand, happened to observe that your girlfriend  
is quite a choice piece of ass." His expression began to crack. "So,  
like, can I have your chick instead?"  
  
Hideki collapsed into fits of laughter. "Dude, you should do late-night  
comedy, man!"  
  
"May I have the photo back, please?"  
  
For some reason I smiled as I said it. This must have unnerved the   
brothers, because they stopped laughing very quickly.  
  
"Whoa! It talks!" said Hideki.  
  
"What the hell are you smiling at, huh?" said Yukio.  
  
I got up, drew myself up to my full height, put my hand out and asked him   
again. "May I have the photo back, please?"  
  
"Give him the photo, Yukio," said Keitaro.  
  
Yukio shrugged and shoved it into my hands. "Fine. Whatever."  
  
I went to the desk and carefully placed the photo back where it had been on   
my desk, except that I placed the frame with its face to the window, so   
that the photo did not face into the room. Then I turned on Yukio.  
  
I do not clearly remember the details of what happened next. All I know  
for sure is that four people pulled me off Yukio: father, Eiko's husband   
Yotaro (who is a distant cousin of ours as well, though that is beside the   
point), Keitaro and Hideki. Possibly one or both of the cousins tried to   
overpower me, but I must have managed to beat them back, and they called   
out for help, or one ran down to get some help.  
  
The first thing I do clearly remember was their grip on my arms, and my  
struggle to get free.  
  
"Soichiro!"  
  
A woman's voice, I could not tell whom. I kept struggling, shouting at  
the top of my lungs at where I thought Yukio was, though I cannot recall  
clearly seeing anything at all.  
  
"LAY A FINGER ON YUKINO MIYAZAWA AND I'LL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!"  
  
Someone slapped me hard in the face. I felt a softer grip on my hands.  
"Soichiro, stop! What's the matter with you?"  
  
I came to my senses, or rather they returned to me with a vengeance.  
Quite a crowd had gathered, aunt Eiko at their head. Mother was right in  
front of me, a look of utter horror on her face. Aunt Eiko was hard to  
read. She should have been as horrified, or as furious, at what I had  
done as mother. The fury was there. There was a hint of something else,  
however, perhaps of satisfaction.  
  
Somehow Yukio was still conscious, and was able to rise by himself,  
lifting himself up by his left arm. He looked like a boxer after a  
disastrous bout. I had blackened both his eyes and broken his nose. The  
room reeked of the blood dripping from his nose. Something looked wrong  
with his jaw; almost certainly broken. He nursed his right shoulder and  
arm; they might have been broken as well. The look he gave me was  
murderous, but, perhaps fearing for his jaw, did not try to say any  
more, much less retaliate.  
  
I stopped struggling, and my relations, sensing perhaps that I had no  
fight left in me, released me at last. I looked at my hands. There was  
blood on them.  
  
My father spoke. "What is the meaning of this?"  
  
Keitaro answered. "Yukio made some stupid joke about stealing Soichiro's  
girlfriend and he went wild."  
  
Hideki was livid. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me violently.  
"What are you going to do about my brother's fucking jaw, asshole?"  
  
Father shoved him aside. "There'll be no talk like that in my house!"  
  
Mother turned to uncle Yotaro, and bowed low. "I swear to you, he's  
never done anything like this before. Take Yukio to the hospital. We'll  
repay every penny, if it takes us the rest of our lives..."  
  
Uncle Yotaro laughed humorlessly. "Make the spoiled brat pay for it  
himself if it takes the rest of _his_ life. I've a good mind to take it  
out of his hide right here...!"  
  
"He's too big to beat, brother-in-law!"  
  
"He's my son," said father, "I'll deal with him myself!"  
  
Aunt Eiko spoke up. "Brother, if you had any sense you'd have dealt with  
him a long time ago." She was suddenly upon me, shaking me with one arm,  
slapping me hard with the other and shoving me towards the wall. I did  
not try to resist. "You little wretch! Who do you think you are, beating  
up my boy for no reason at all? Dear God, I should have strangled you in  
your cradle myself...!"  
  
Father now grabbed her arms and pulled her off. "Let him go!"  
  
Keitaro tried to step between them. "Mother, this isn't helping. It's  
Yukio's own fault, I told you, he..."  
  
"How? Your uncle Reiji never needed a reason, why should his damned  
son?"  
  
"Mother, listen!"  
  
"What, you think a remark about some alley-cat is an excuse for  
something like this? As if I cared about the tarts Reiji's boy consorts  
with!"  
  
Father slapped her, hard, and looked her in the eye. "Now you listen to  
me, sister! I happen to have met Soichiro's friend, and she happens to  
have more character in her little finger than your miserable sons have  
in their whole bodies. You're right, she has nothing to do with this.  
You'll take back what you said right now and so will they!"  
  
Across the room the fight seemed to have gone out of Yukio and Hideki,  
and they had begun to look ashamed. Mother was gasping, and I feared she  
might collapse. Even uncle Yotaro looked unnerved.  
  
"Since when have you been a competent judge of character, brother? You  
thought the world of Reiji's girl as well. If it weren't for her..."  
  
"Damn you, this isn't about Reiji!"  
  
"It has everything to do with Reiji! You expect _me_ to apologize?  
I'll..."  
  
"Wife, you're overreacting. Yukio's still alive. We'll take him to the  
hospital." Uncle Yotaro walked over to father, and his voice hardened  
again. "Brother-in-law, let my wife go and apologize, and make your son  
do the same."  
  
"What sort of father are you?" Aunt Eiko snapped back at her husband.  
"What if he'd killed him?"  
  
"Killed him? Sister, they're boys, that's all! He didn't know what he  
was doing." Father let aunt Eiko go and ran over to mother, who had sat  
down on the floor, trying to catch her breath. "My God, Eiko, are _you_  
trying to kill Shizume?"  
  
Suddenly I felt my heart harden in my chest.  
  
"What if I had?"  
  
I have spent much time in the room alone, but now, with the room so  
full, it seemed as if it had never been more silent.  
  
Aunt Eiko broke the silence, now speaking much more calmly. Even, to  
conceal utter indifference or utter fury. "Brother, I've forgotten.  
Where is the telephone?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Obviously you won't deal with him. I can't, so there's no choice.  
Someone else must. Reiji's son attacked Yukio with intent to kill.  
That's a serious offense. Husband, Hideki, take Yukio to the hospital.  
Brother, you'll get the bill. If you don't pay it you'll hear from our  
lawyer. I'm calling the police." She turned to me. "Congratulations,  
boy. At last you had the courage to fly your true colors. It just earned  
you a one-way trip to prison. Keitaro, you're a strong boy. Do whatever  
it takes to stop him from escaping. I don't think your uncle will."  
  
Keitaro's mask of calm seemed to have evaporated. "Mother..."  
  
Father looked up from mother's side, horror mixed with rage. "You'll do  
no such thing!"  
  
Mother looked up as well, wheezing, trying not to shout. "He's not going  
to prison. Nobody is. Eiko, for God's sake..."  
  
Aunt Eiko paused for breath. "The boy's stopped pulling the wool over  
your eyes and you still won't see. Brother, you never cease to amaze me.  
Well, this is no longer your decision, it'll be a judge's, like it  
should have been in the first place. You shan't defend him any more. I  
won't have it. You can't do this to me..."  
  
"You?" snapped father. "Eiko, if I didn't know any better I'd think you  
were enjoying this. You've been looking forward to being rid of Soichiro  
once and for all, haven't you? Do you hate your own nephew that much?"  
  
"Nephew? He's a common thug like his mother and father!"  
  
"Yes." Everyone looked towards me. "Yes, I suppose I am."  
  
"Oh?" Aunt Eiko turned towards me. "What does that mean? You'll go  
quietly? Well, thank goodness, boy, you just saved us a great deal of  
trouble. I'm glad your uncle taught you some semblance of reason. I'll  
go find the phone now. Keitaro, look after him..."  
  
"I was just thinking, aunt. I see I have caused this family a great deal  
of trouble. You are right. Mother and father cannot defend me any more.  
If only my leaving will mend matters, I have no objection."  
  
"Which means?"  
  
I turned towards mother and father. "Father, mother, thank you for  
everything. Your generosity towards me was more than I deserved. I will  
repay you if it takes until the end of my life. I must go. Happy New  
Year."  
  
And with that I ran for the door. Nobody moved to stop me, neither  
Keitaro nor anybody else.  
  
"Soichiro! Soichiro, _wait_!"  
  
"Quit the teenage theatrics, boy! You won't get far on foot!"  
  
I do not know which I heard first, my father or aunt Eiko. It is  
possible I heard only one, or none at all. At any rate, I did not stop  
to check. I ran downstairs, grabbed my jacket, gloves and shoes and ran  
out into the night.  
  
---  
  
The atmosphere of the New Year is very different from that of Christmas.  
The lights were gone, and there were no lovers on the street, only a few  
old couples on their way to some temple or other. The New Year  
decorations, too, are much more somber, the _shimenawa_ in particular  
serving as a warning to malevolent intruders who might disturb the  
festivities of the New Year, human or spiritual. I ran through the  
streets for about three-quarters of an hour, I suppose, zigzagging in  
case I was being pursued. In all that time I saw only one house that,  
for reasons unknown, had neglected to remove their Christmas  
decorations; once possibly festive, it now looked like nothing so much  
as an enormous, misplaced pachinko machine.  
  
I did not stop running until I had made it to the shopping district.  
Just about everywhere had closed early for the holiday, with the windows  
dark and the signs on each door all saying the same thing, or variations  
thereon: CLOSED FOR THE DAY, WILL REOPEN 1/4/2001, HAPPY NEW YEAR. The  
only places lit up were the bars, where those with no families to return  
to, or no families they cared to return to, congregated to greet the New  
Year, perhaps unable to sweep away the problems of the previous year,  
but prepared at least to forget them with the aid of alcohol.  
  
At one there was a person standing by the door, calling to passers-by to  
come in and drink to the New Year, which I thought was mad. Aside from  
myself, a few obviously homeless people, and an old woman clearly headed  
to prayer and not to sake, I had not seen another living soul on the  
street.  
  
"Hello, stranger! Shouldn't spend the New Year so down! Come inside and  
ring in the New Year over our house brew!"  
  
"Go to hell."  
  
"Half price on...Soichiro?"  
  
It was Hideaki, dressed in a happi coat. I had seen him through the  
snow, but I had not recognized him, and it had only let up now. At any  
rate, I had been staring at the ground most of the time, so I would not  
have known who it was even if there had been none at all.  
  
There must have been a jukebox in the bar, because U2's "New Year's Day"  
started blasting from inside.  
  
"Hideaki?"  
  
He jumped on me. "Oh, Soichiro! You came to see _me_? Oh, I'm so happy...!"  
  
"No you idiot, I didn't even know you were here! If you're going to be  
an asshole..."  
  
He let me go, perhaps realizing I meant it. "Seriously, Soichiro, what are  
you doing here? Don't your folks usually drive to temple, or..."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So...why are you here again?"  
  
"You want the truth?"  
  
He looked at me, concern on his face. I probably know Hideaki better  
than anyone. It is not often he bears that emotion on his face. "Try  
me."  
  
"I don't have a family any more."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Dammit, Hideaki, I ran out on my folks on New Year's. I'm a heartless  
bastard. You ought to know that. How plain do I have to make it?"  
  
"Shit." He thought a moment. "You want to come in and sit down? Can't  
serve you booze, 'course, but we've tea and food and stuff..."  
  
"No thanks."  
  
"Soichiro, you picked a crappy day to run away from home, you know that?  
It's freezing out here. You wanna get hypothermia or..."  
  
"What are _you_ doing here?"  
  
"I got fired from my other job. They found out how old I was. I only got  
this one because I know the owner's daughter and she begged and pleaded  
to her old man. He didn't really need the help, though, that's why I'm  
standing out here."  
  
"Nice to know your bod finally came in useful. Happy New Year." I turned  
my back on him and made to go, but he grabbed me by the shoulder.  
  
"Jesus, Soichiro, it's cold! Come in and get warm!"  
  
"Why? I'll just get cold again when I leave."  
  
"No...look...Soichiro, do you want to crash at my place, maybe? Just for a  
few days, 'til you get your head together, or as long as it takes. I'll  
help you find a job. I need help with the rent anyway..."  
  
"Hideaki, no. I can't. We've talked about this."  
  
"I don't mean--"  
  
"We've already talked about it!" I shoved his hand off my shoulder, but  
his only response was to grab me by both shoulders and turn me around to  
face him.  
  
"Fuck that! Where the hell else are you going to go, huh?"  
  
Someone yelled from inside the store. "Asaba, come in here and serve the  
damn customers, will ya!"  
  
"You have work to do, Hideaki. I'd better go."  
  
"Answer me, you dumb bastard! Where are you gonna go?"  
  
I suddenly remembered. "Hideaki, I have somewhere to go."  
  
"Oh yeah, where?"  
  
I drew myself up to my full height. "I'm going to the Miyazawas.  
Miyazawa invited me over. I turned her down, but now I have a reason to  
go."  
  
"Yeah, so...?"  
  
"Mr. Miyazawa has no sons. I'm going to ask to become his son-in-law."  
  
Hideaki let his hands fall slowly from my shoulders. He stared at me in  
disbelief. Perhaps heartbreak. "You're for fucking real, aint'cha?"  
  
Another yell came from inside, a girl. "Asaba, daddy needs help in  
here!"  
  
He finally turned his back on me. "Do whatever you want. And while  
you're at it go to hell."  
  
"Happy New Year to you too." I began to walk back into the snow.  
  
"Soichiro!"   
  
I turned back. Hideaki had not moved, but was looking expressionless inside   
the bar.  
  
"If you change your mind, I get done here at one. I should be home about  
one-thirty. I'll wait 'til three."  
  
I turned away once more and walked off into the night. The jukebox was  
too loud. I tried to block it out.  
  
...and so, this is the golden age  
and gold is the cause of the wars we wage  
I want to be with you, be with you, night and day  
Nothing changes New Year's Day  
  
---  
  
I had said I was going to Miyazawa's, but in fact I wandered aimlessly  
for several more minutes away from the business district into the  
housing estates. As I walked the street lights became poorer and poorer.  
At length I stopped at a vending machine and bought some heated coffee,  
less out of actual thirst than to warm my hands. The night was colder  
than I had expected, and my gloves did little to keep the cold out.  
  
It had begun to snow again, and in fact the sky had been overcast all  
day. There were no stars in the sky this night. From where I was  
standing the only lights I could see were the red lights designed to  
warn off low-flying aircraft from the stacks of the factory.  
It's not the Toshiba factory. I don't know what they make there.  
It might be petroleum products of some kind. I have never cared to visit it   
to find out, and in fact I have carefully shunned it for as long as I can  
reliably remember, for it is there my father--my real father, whose  
brother I now call father--abandoned me when I was four. It is my first  
memory. I suppose I must have been crying, because I remember a man-my real  
father, I suppose, though my memory is unable to establish that for   
certain--shouting an obscenity at me and slapping me in the face. It must  
have been around sunset, because I remember it being very cold, and the  
sky being red as blood, and the stacks, cast in shadow, as black as ink.  
It has been the stage for my nightmares ever since.  
  
Possibly it is just as well. What little I know suggests that I was very  
lucky to be raised by my real father's brother, rather than my real  
father himself. For his part father--my present father--has fond  
memories of his brother, and it is those he prefers. When I was young, I  
forget just what age, I had a nightmare about the factory, and woke up  
crying. Father came into the room to console me, and I asked him through  
my tears "why my real daddy left me behind." His answer, then, was that  
my real father was in a lot of trouble, and didn't want me to get hurt.  
Reiji (for that was his name) was always in trouble. Perhaps father  
thinks Reiji thought his luck had finally run out, and this was the best  
he could do for me. This is possible, but a simpler explanation was that  
I had become more trouble for him than I was worth. Admittedly that my  
father was being pursued is quite possible, but father's conjecture does  
not quite cohere with the details of how father found me at the factory,  
or for that matter, my being left there at all, for all he knew to die  
of exposure. Reiji simply called my present father and said, "I owe  
someone a great deal. Try to knock them off the scent. Soichiro is at  
the old factory, in case you care." Then he hung up. Father ran like the  
wind to the factory and there I was.  
  
That was Reiji's end as far as we know. My father adopted me as his own,  
over the objections of everyone else in the family, who were convinced  
that the son of a man like Reiji would never amount to anything, and  
said so. It also fell to my present father to have Reiji Arima  
officially listed as missing. Nobody else in the family cared any longer  
whether Reiji was alive or dead, as long as they were rid of him, and in  
fact I never found out whether Reiji had evaded his pursuers or anything  
about what had become of him. It is easy, I am told, for someone to  
disappear, if they truly do not want to be found. At any rate, Reiji  
Arima's whereabouts were never discovered, and seven years later, as the  
law prescribed, he was officially pronounced dead.  
  
So my first and last memory of my real father was at the factory, and as  
a result, I came to consider it his grave.  
  
I have said it was probably best for me that my real father left me  
behind. Even so I hated him for it, and for the disgrace he had caused  
me in the eyes of the rest of my family, whose memory was a curse among  
them, and a curse upon me. Because of that, and of the terror the memory  
invoked, I came to consider the factory, if not hell itself, then a god-  
forsaken and defiled place, to be avoided by man and beast alike.  
  
So I did not go there, but that did not stop anything from there coming  
to me. There was an evil spirit who dwelled there, one who often visited  
me to torture me for sport. I knew him well, and can describe him with  
no effort at all, because he had my face. He dressed in black, perhaps  
in my winter school uniform. He stuck close behind me, and now and again  
I thought I saw him in the corner of my eye, smirking at me and seeming  
as if reflected through a prism, every color of the rainbow streaking to  
one side. He said he was me, but I refused to believe that, for I  
thought I had rejected the wickedness in me that came from my father.  
Perhaps he is my father's shade, wearing my uniform. At any rate, I try  
not to listen to him, but I cannot drive him away by my own power, and  
he comes and goes when he pleases; moreover, he is very persuasive, and  
speaks so well that at times I cannot but believe him myself. He adds to  
the slanders flung at me by my family, and the more something is  
repeated, the easier it is to believe.  
  
He must have noticed my defenses low that night, for I heard his voice  
at my shoulder. It is an easy voice to describe, for the voice was mine.  
  
Well, that was a remarkably stupid thing to do, he said.  
  
"Hideaki wants something from me. Something I can't give him."  
  
Actually I had meant fleeing from justice in midwinter, but I suppose  
you could be right about that. He wanted something from you? Of course  
he did. So does Miyazawa. Suppose you make your way to her place. Even  
if she let you stay, would matters be any different?  
  
"Miyazawa's not like that. She doesn't want anything from me."  
  
Rot. Did she tell you that? I'm not sure she did. If she had it would be a  
lie. Or self-deception. Nobody does anything except to get something out of   
other people. If she had nothing to gain from you she would have had   
nothing to do with you. Does this disturb you? Actually, no, let me try   
again. How else do you think things could be? There've been plenty of   
people who thought they knew, each one crazier and more dangerous than the   
next. I'll let you pick out their names yourself.  
  
"Leave me alone!" I started walking again. Of course walking away from  
him never helps, but somehow I thought it would.  
  
It's always been that way. People haven't changed. People don't change.  
People can't change, actually. Nothing changes New Year's Day, so to  
speak, or any other day of the year. I exaggerate slightly. People  
discover new ways of getting the things they want. These might be better  
ways to make things, or better ways of killing each other over the  
things they already have, or better ways of fooling each other into  
giving them things without paying for it. But the wants don't change  
much. People at base are depressingly predictable creatures. Their  
tastes are simple. They all want the same things, reliable supplies of  
food, sleep, warmth, and, when they get old enough, sex. All aimed at  
self-preservation and reproduction. And they'll do whatever it takes to  
get them and keep them. Exhibit A, your beating the tar out of Yukio  
Arima over Yukino Miyazawa.  
  
"How about love?"  
  
Love? You mind telling me what that is?  
  
Well, I'm waiting.  
  
I thought not. Oh! I know what you mean now! You seem to think that just  
because Miyazawa lusts after you, and vice versa, she'll do anything for  
you. Is that it? Please. We've had this conversation before. She did  
want you, all right, and vice versa. You came in quite handy in that  
regard too, as far as I can tell. But once she'd had you, you started to  
drift apart. She had what she wanted. I dare say she was content.  
Perhaps you weren't satisfied, but that was entirely your own problem,  
not hers. She was quite happy with her own little clique, thank you very  
much. People's first priorities are themselves. It couldn't be  
otherwise. That's how they're wired. Otherwise they mightn't preserve  
themselves. That's very bad, from an evolutionary perspective, don't you  
think? Oh, I know what you think. What about parents' love for children?  
That's a drive as well, to ensure they haven't wasted their time  
reproducing. Of course in your case they actually hadn't. Can't, if  
memory serves. Someone else had. That's a thin reed to try grabbing.  
  
"It wasn't like that! She was busy at the festival. She had no idea she  
was doing that to me. She said she'd never leave me..."  
  
Of course she did, after she'd had her way with you. Why wouldn't she be  
content to stay with you? Every addict's content as long as his system's  
full of dope. Though I suppose you're right. She has kept you around.  
It's not as urgent, however. Anyway, I'm afraid that won't save you.  
Think. She's a bright girl, everyone knows that. Going far in the world,  
if she plays her cards right. She needed a suitable partner. She chose  
well picking you, at least at the time. I dare say there was really  
nobody else suitable for her, at least none she had access to. Like I  
said, people have simple tastes. They're not as choosy as they like to  
think they are. They take what they can get. So she jumped at the chance  
to grab a handsome, intelligent, and rich young man, the best in the  
school. Wouldn't you have? As a matter of fact, you did. Someone as  
upwardly mobile as you are. You were, I should say. The hard fact is  
your stock has declined terribly in the past few hours. For all she knew  
you were headed to the pinnacle of the medical profession. Now, all  
you've got to look forward to is a jail cell, when your aunt catches up  
with you, or skid row. Actually, jail would be better. It's a nicer  
place than it's made out to be. At least there you'll get a warm bed and  
three square meals a day. That's more than I can say for skid row. Three  
out of four isn't bad. There actually is sex too, but I'm afraid not the  
sort you're into. Unfortunately for Hideaki, the poor fellow.  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
Don't give me that. You were thinking about that. I ought to know. I am  
you, you know.  
  
"Get away from me!"  
  
How could I? I'm...there's no point repeating myself. But you're right.  
It's beside the point. Think. What on earth do you expect Miyazawa to  
say when you show up on her doorstep and ask for her hand in marriage?  
Providing her mad father lets you live for long afterwards, I mean. Even  
in the best circumstances that's a disaster in the making. What in  
blazes have you to offer her? Your money is gone, you can forget your  
career in medicine or pretty much anything else beyond manual labor. Or  
do you expect Mr. Miyazawa to pay for you two to wing your way off to  
college in Ann Arbor or wherever? You're madder than he is. Oh God, what  
a joke that was! What, you want to take your darling dear away from all  
this? Off to some Promised Land? Listen, if men actually found the Pure  
Land they'd defile it the moment they set foot in it.  
  
"You think we can't live without the money? The Miyazawas managed it  
somehow, we'll think of something. People do it every day..."  
  
Oh dear God, don't insult my intelligence. How blunt do I have to be?  
The hard fact is the only reason Yukino Miyazawa kept you around this  
long was that you gave her things and generally spoiled her and told her  
she was God. That girl's appetite for adulation is nothing short of  
disturbing. There might be a term for it, but it's beside the point.  
Another disaster waiting to happen. As an added bonus, riding to the top  
on your coattails would have been easy. Love, however defined, has nothing   
to do with it, in either direction. Your money is gone, you're going   
nowhere but down from here, any healthy man can keep her happy with a   
little practice, and she can get cheap flattery from anyone. You're   
history.  
  
"She's not like that any more. She changed. We promised we'd..."  
  
Live as our true selves, and thus and so forth. Rot. There are people  
who have genuinely tried to discard convention and public opinion. The  
jails and mental hospitals are full of them. You might be joining them  
soon, after letting your animal instincts get the better of you like  
that. Up to now, you did no such thing. Neither did she. If you think so  
highly of her, give her credit for brains, can't you? You really think  
she took off her mask? She just went through an image change. It really  
isn't hard. To keep you around it was probably essential.  
  
"I loved her before I knew her true self. Once I knew it I came to love  
her even more..."  
  
Is that after she kicked you in the chest? Or after she played the cute  
little puppy-dog in the hall after school? Let's take these in  
succession. You turned her little mistake to your advantage very nicely,  
didn't you? Harassing her like that just so she'd hang out with you, and  
don't you dare say you had no idea it was hurting her, as if it were any  
excuse. Or the puppy-dog act? Come now, a good actor has to play to his  
audience, that's no secret. That one happened to be particularly  
effective for you. She showed you what she thought you wanted to see and  
you bought it. Same goes for her image change in front of her friends.  
How much did trading in her Queen of the School act for the Honest  
Yukinon bit really cost her? Got herself a nice little clique, she did.  
They'll do as well as you will for doing her dirty work for her at  
school. Not to mention the whole school _still_ thinks she's the best  
thing since sliced bread, Maho Isawa's efforts notwithstanding. Girl's a  
veritable Svengali. Don't feel bad about being bewitched by her,  
stronger men and women than you have suffered the same fate. At least  
one of them used to be _your_ pet.  
  
"She never wanted me to do her dirty work! She made me happy! I thought  
I made her happy!"  
  
Happy? There's another weasel word for you. I've finally figured out the  
source of your misunderstanding, I think. Happiness isn't a permanent  
state, it's transitory. One's happy, for a while, after one's drives are  
sated, drives for food, sex, sleep. One eats and has enough, one has  
one's way with a girl, one rests afterwards, and before he knows it he's  
as hungry, frustrated and tired as before. And the rest of one's life is  
spent twisting oneself into knots driving that away. If you try to stay  
happy _all_ the time, you'll fail. That's not how people are built, they  
just can't do it and they're fools to try. Drug addicts make this  
mistake and kill themselves as a result. So does anyone who thinks  
having a girl will keep him happy till death do they part. You're better  
off dying happy in her arms than living long enough for her to betray  
you. This is trite, but life is suffering, and the cause of suffering  
desire. There's really only one sure way out of it. Think. When people  
talked about the Pure Land, what do you think they really had in mind?  
  
"Go to hell."  
  
That reminds me. We've been friends twelve years and you've never paid  
me a visit.  
  
"You are not my friend!"  
  
Oh, stop it. I happen to be you. That makes me the only one you've got.  
No time like the present. It's the New Year, time to turn over a new  
leaf. Security won't care, if they're not drunk, they're paid by the  
hour. Getting in shouldn't be a serious problem.  
  
"Why?"  
  
Oh, come on, do I have to spell everything out? Plenty of high enough  
places at the factory. The stacks are tall enough. Platforms for  
maintenance. You have gloves, you can climb the ladders without sticking  
to them. I can't give you a coach ticket to the Pure Land, but come over  
and you can have something that's just as good. Something that a poor  
human being can actually hope for, too. People need to take what they  
can get.  
  
"Go to hell."  
  
You're sure? It's not so bad. If you do it right you won't feel a thing.  
  
"Go back to HELL!"  
  
Well, I tried.  
  
I was at the doorstep of the Miyazawa house. I suppose I was walking in  
that direction, but even so I was not quite sure how I had gotten there.  
Who was it said that if one can walk somewhere without thinking about  
it, he is not walking anywhere new?  
  
I had not been there since Christmas, so I had not seen the New Year  
decorations at the Miyazawa house. They were simple but effective, one  
might say. The _kudomatsu_, clearly a mass-produced one, but cheerful  
just the same. The _shimenawa_ around the door, and, I noticed, another  
set on a wooden frame (built by Mr. Miyazawa, perhaps) at the front of  
the path.  
  
Perhaps they really did drive away the devil with my face.  
  
There was little left to do but ring the bell. I heard voices inside,  
mostly wondering who on earth was calling New Year's Eve. I'm sure  
someone said, Better be someone we like. Then another voice, Yukino  
Miyazawa's. I'll get it.  
  
There is an evil spirit who lives in the chemical factory downtown.  
Perhaps to counterbalance him, a benevolent spirit was placed here as  
well. Her shrine is a humble home in a lower-middle-class district of  
Kawasaki, and it was she who opened the door. She greeted me dressed in  
a light-grey kimono, decorated with drawings of pine branches at the  
bottom, and the occasional Chinese character for "snow." Her form and  
face were perfect in every detail; even her hair had no pins in it, for  
her hair was short, and in any case, there was nothing else that could  
have added to her beauty. The glow from inside the house was the only  
ornament that such as she could need.  
  
As I beheld the spirit I asked myself how any living being could have  
defiled such as this even if he had tried.  
  
The expression in the eyes of the spirit of the snow went from surprise,  
then to delight, then to concern.  
  
"Oh. Arima," said Miyazawa. "Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
---  
  
Here are my mother and my brothers.  
  
---  
  
"Happy New Year."  
  
"Happy New Year."  
  
"You came."  
  
"Yes."  
  
She was silent, not sure what to say next.  
  
"You look beautiful," I said.  
  
She blushed a little, and smiled. "Thanks." She pirouetted (which is  
rather difficult in a kimono, I imagine) so I could see her back. "What,  
you like the kimono? Guess you never saw me in one before, huh?"  
  
"It's lovely."  
  
"Yeah, well...actually it's getting a bit small for me. Can't really  
afford another one. But hey, if you like it..."  
  
"I hadn't noticed."  
  
"What, anything looks good on your honey, huh?"  
  
I hesitated. "Well..."  
  
We were both silent a moment.  
  
"So, you coming in or what?" she said.  
  
"Did you tell your parents I might be here?"  
  
"Well, I thought you weren't coming, so..."  
  
"Do you want me to go?"  
  
"No, no! Come in! What, you think they'll kick you out on your ass? Get  
real!"  
  
"Well, for all I know your father will think I've come to propose or  
some darn thing and try to skin me alive."  
  
"Yeah, he would, wouldn't he?"  
  
As it happened it was Mr. Miyazawa's voice who called out from inside  
the house. "For God's sake, Yukino, you're freezing us to death in here!  
Either let 'em in or tell 'em to beat it, a'right?"  
  
"Just a minute!" She turned back from calling inside to her father. "I  
thought you didn't want to come because of your aunt. Did something  
happen?"  
  
"Not now. Not here."  
  
"Arima, please. I--"  
  
"I'll explain later, okay?"  
  
She capitulated. "Okay." She felt my cheek. "You're freezing. You'd  
better come in."  
  
"All right."  
  
---  
  
I stepped inside and took my shoes and jacket off. Miyazawa called down  
the corridor. "Hey guys! Look who's here!" She took my hand and led me  
into the living room.  
  
I don't think I had ever seen the living room as clean or as orderly as  
it was that evening. Everything was in perfect order, with not a speck  
of dust on the couch, the television, or anywhere else. Someone had set  
up a small table on which was set the prettiest _kagamimochi_ New Year  
mochi, set in its place of honor at the center of the table topped with  
a small tangerine, surrounded with all manner of New Year dishes and a  
bottle of sweet sake, as far as I knew an inexpensive but decent brand.  
In our house it took several days to complete the _susuharai_. The  
Miyazawa house is smaller than mine, and Mrs. Miyazawa surely had help  
from her daughters, but for all that I could not believe a _susuharai_  
could be that complete. But then I never knew Yukino Miyazawa to do  
anything in half measures either.  
  
"Oh! Hello dear! What a pleasant surprise!" Mrs. Miyazawa was in a  
purple kimono with a print of the gate of a shrine on the back, her hair  
pinned exquisitely.  
  
"Hello Arima! Happy New Year!" Tsukino Miyazawa's kimono was blue with a  
moon motif.  
  
Peropero, the dog, bounded up to me in greeting, wagging his tail. I  
knelt down and let him lick my hand.  
  
"Good evening, Mr. Arima. I'm pleased you were able to come. It'll do  
you good to mingle with the proletariat." Kano Miyazawa's kimono was  
yellow with a _nadeshiko_ sweet-william flower print.  
  
I just smiled weakly. Mrs. Miyazawa buried her face in her hands.  
"Soichiro, I don't know where she gets this nonsense, I really don't.  
Kano, what are you talking about now?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. I've been reading this romance comic set during the Russian  
Revolution, _The Red Rose of Leningrad_? It's about this German girl  
called Rosa Jung-Freud who goes to help Lenin in Russia in 1917. She  
meets this dreamy Russian guy and gets killed in the capture of the  
Winter Palace! It's so romantic I could just die! Say, Arima, you wanna  
borrow it?"  
  
"Some other time...Mrs. Miyazawa, Tsukino, Kano, you look lovely."  
  
Kano beamed. "Thanks!"  
  
Tsukino explained the kimonos. "Mom's kimono has a shrine--_miya_ for  
Miyako. Sis's has a snow motif--_yuki_ for Yukino. Mine has a moon--  
_tsuki_ for Tsukino. Kano's has flowers--the first character in her name  
is the one for 'flower.' Running gag in our house."  
  
"Yeah." Yukino looked apologetic. "Could be worse, I guess, we could all  
be wearing the same one, like a cult or something. What do you want?"  
  
"The truth is," said Mrs. Miyazawa, almost apologetically, "we've never  
stood for ceremony in this house. The truth is that we just really enjoy  
the New Year. That, and my daughters and I like dressing up. I hardly  
ever wear one of these any other time, so I appreciate the opportunity.  
If it wasn't for that, you'd be the best dressed person here. Right,  
honey?"  
  
As if to prove the point, Mr. Miyazawa was in jeans and a "Japan's  
Greatest Dad" t-shirt, looking rather dissheveled, and had been fiddling  
with what looked like a small karaoke machine when I came in. He jumped  
at the chance to complement his wife and his daughters. "Yes, dear, but  
I so _adore_ seeing my wife and my daughters dressed in their kimonos at  
New Year's! They look even more beautiful at New Year's than during the  
whole of the rest of the year, and that's saying something! And every  
year each of my daughters comes to look more and more like their mother,  
making the experience even better than before!" He took Miyazawa and her  
mother by their shoulders and all but shoved them towards me. "Look,  
Arima! My little princess Yukino looks almost exactly like her mother  
now, so it's like two Miyakos for the price of one, and in their  
kimonos...oh, words _fail_ me...!"  
  
The resemblence was striking, once it had been pointed out, even given  
the family ties. However, I would rather it had not been pointed out to  
me in quite that way.  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa smiled weakly. "Yes, dear, I think you've made your  
point."  
  
Miyazawa just groaned. "Why me God?"  
  
"He can be worse," put in Tsukino. "Sometimes he's convinced Sis is  
prettier than Mom..."  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa was obviously not amused. "Thank you Tsukino, I'm sure  
Soichiro could have gone his whole life without hearing that." She spoke  
more truly than she probably knew. Then she smiled at me. "Would you  
like something to eat?"  
  
"Um...whatever's going is fine, Mrs. Miyazawa," I said. I remembered  
something. "Miyazawa?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Have you played Uno yet, or..."  
  
"Actually, you kind of missed it. Sorry."  
  
"Oh. Never mind."  
  
"Yukino won," said Kano. "Again."  
  
"The good news is," said Tsukino, "that you're just in time for the  
Miyazawa family's eighth annual karaoke contest."  
  
"Would you care to join us?" asked Mrs. Miyazawa.  
  
"Thank you, ma'am. I'd like that." I looked at my hands. I had forgotten  
to remove my gloves. "Excuse me, where is the bathroom?"  
  
---  
  
I said that Yukino Miyazawa never does anything in half-measures. The  
Miyazawa family for their part put their all into the karaoke contest,  
just as Miyazawa puts her all into her studying. Just like my Miyazawa,  
too, their competitive spirit was almost tangible, so I felt obliged to  
offer my services as judge, fearing no objective opinion was possible  
otherwise; most years, though, they told me that given that they all  
play to win, having the other family members serve as judges works out  
better than one would think. The competitive spirit is allegedly such  
that risk of favoritism is minimal.  
  
Now I know why Miyazawa gets upset at even tying for first in exams.  
  
Mr. Miyazawa, Mrs. Miyazawa, and the two younger sisters each took two  
turns at solos in rotation, as was their custom. My Miyazawa's turn came  
last, and Tsukino Miyazawa, who had gone before her, was permitted to  
pick the song. She skimmed the book and found a title. "Here we are,  
Sis. 'Into the Middle of a Dream!'"  
  
Miyazawa folded her arms and turned up her nose. "No. Pick something  
else."  
  
"Oh, come on, Sis!"  
  
"Yeah, Sis," said Kano Miyazawa, adding for good measure, "Don't you  
want Arima to hear you singing like an angel?" She spoke more truly than  
she probably realized, but I said nothing.  
  
"I don't do sappy songs like that, all right?" said Miyazawa.  
  
But her mother insisted as well, and Miyazawa finally capitulated. She  
rose. "All right."  
  
Then suddenly she grabbed my hand, pulling me up from the floor where I  
was sitting, and said, "Can we make this a duet, Mom?"  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa seemed unsure. "I don't see why not..."  
  
Mr. Miyazawa pulled a face. "Fine."  
  
I got the impression this was rather irregular, and tried politely to  
refuse, but Miyazawa wouldn't hear of it. "Look, pal, I'm not singing  
this all by myself. Your tenure as judge is up. Deal." Tsukino passed  
her a sheet, which she handed to me. "Here's the words. Sing for your  
supper."  
  
"Number nine! A duet, ladies and gentlemen!" Kano Miyazawa has a  
penchant for the theatrical, and was thoroughly enjoying playing master  
of ceremonies. "The lovely Yukino Miyazawa, with the help of late entry  
Soichiro Arima, with their rendition of 'Into the Middle of a Dream!'  
Take it away, kids!"  
  
There was only one microphone, so we both tried awkwardly to hold it,  
and pulled back and forth the whole time, while I tried to read the  
words to the song, with which I was unfamiliar. We must have sounded  
horrid, but we tried our best.  
  
"What is it, lover, that you're looking for?  
It must be something that is hard to find  
You've looked inside your desk, you've looked inside my purse  
You didn't find it, and I see it's weighing on your mind  
So do you plan to search until it's light?  
Wouldn't you rather dance with me tonight?  
Oh won't you come with me, oh won't you come with me  
Run with me into the middle of a dream now  
Do do do, do do do, do do do, yeah..."  
  
The sisters cheered, and Kano said, "Eat your heart out Sonny and Cher!"  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa clapped politely. "That was wonderful."  
  
Mr. Miyazawa looked grumpy. "I could have done better with Miyako here."  
It was almost a whine. Miyazawa says that as she was growing up her  
father seemed more to her like an overgrown big brother, or even a  
little brother, than a father like most children had, and to be sure he  
at least likes to make a show of being childish. However, he had been  
appointed judge for the duration, and their karaoke machine is not a  
terribly fancy model, and cannot give "points" itself, so no dispute was  
really possible. These things are matters of opinion. "Thirty-eight  
points. Better luck next time, Arima, hit the showers." He thought a  
moment. "You know what? I think we'll do just that. Me and Miyako are up  
next."  
  
Tsukino seemed impressed. "Battle of the Couples, huh?"  
  
I tried to console Miyazawa, admittedly not in the most skilled fashion.  
"Well, I suppose we're not all that good after all..."  
  
She just gave me a filthy look. "Speak for yourself. Karaoke is war. I  
play to win."  
  
I find military metaphors rather out of place in matters like this, but  
I knew better than to say anything.  
  
As if to prove her point, after her father and mother finished their  
duet, she poured her heart into a solo of "Angel's Pinky-Promise,"  
despite her stated aversion to love songs, which carried the evening by  
unanimous decision. It was beautiful.  
  
After that it was time, it was generally agreed, to eat some  
_toshikoshi_ and watch the tolling of the bells on the television.  
  
To hear the bells on television is different from hearing them in person  
at a temple. I had never done so before. Father once said it is not  
nearly as satisfying. At any rate, even when I spent New Year's Eve at  
Hideaki's, we watched the annual New Year's Eve song contest. I do not  
remember who won, and even he said it scarcely mattered. The Miyazawas  
themselves, for their part, watched the tolling of the bells; perhaps  
they find their own singing contest more authentic.  
  
At any rate, if nothing else, the Miyazawa living room felt much warmer  
and more comfortable than the drafty temple ever could have been.  
  
Miyazawa and I sat on the couch, holding hands. Mr. Miyazawa sat on his  
easy chair, with Peropero dozing on his lap. Mrs. Miyazawa knelt on the  
floor beside him, sipping sweet sake, and now and again Mr. Miyazawa  
would stroke her hair.  
  
At one point Miyazawa whispered to me, "Cute couple, huh?" I had to  
agree.  
  
Tsukino and Kano knelt on the floor, taking bets with their New Year  
money on just what temple would they show on the television next. Much  
to Kano's disappointment, Tsukino seemed to be winning over most of the  
evening; at the insistence of Mrs. Miyazawa, however, all funds were  
returned at the end of the night, which cheered Kano up immensely.  
  
All the while we talked of many things. Mrs. Miyazawa's father, whom  
Mrs. Miyazawa had invited but who had turned her down. (Her expression  
clouded for a moment. "There's always next year.") My winning the  
national kendo tournament. (Miyazawa brought it up, not I. Mrs. Miyazawa  
congratulated me. Kano added, "You rock." Mr. Miyazawa, rather out of  
character, hugged me and said, "I'm proud of you son!" much to my  
Miyazawa's embarrassment.) Tsubasa Shibahime. ("We need to go see her  
and Kazuma tomorrow," noted Miyazawa. I agreed we probably should.  
Having a brother seems to have done Tsubasa some good.) I mentioned the  
senior in the kendo club who wanted to go to America to study. ("That's  
very far away," said Mrs. Miyazawa. "It's not so bad," I said. "There  
are other Japanese in Michigan, he says.") Tsukino's friend Yukari, who  
Tsukino said had gone to spend New Year's in Kyoto. (Kano put in, "She  
was like, 'I'll be back, _onesan_,' like she was going off to war or  
something. Real mushy and stuff." Tsukino looked rather put out at that,  
denying she was Yurika's _onesan_. She was blushing. I don't know what  
that means.) Even the business in Florida. (Mr. Miyazawa thought it was  
a disgrace, saying America should just have its parliament pick a prime  
minister like everyone else, and be done with it. Mrs. Miyazawa was just  
glad it had all turned out well. Kano's observation: "I saw them on TV.  
Gore was cuter, but Bush is funnier. Bush should be president. Funny  
lasts longer." Mrs. Miyazawa laughed a little, looked at her husband and  
said, "This is true." Mr. Miyazawa scowled.)  
  
It was as if I had always been one of them.  
  
I held Miyazawa's hand a little too tightly, and thought about what I  
should say to them. Mr. Miyazawa, I have no family any more. I have  
abandoned them, and they have forsaken me. For I betrayed the trust of  
my mother and father, and this is my punishment. I know I am not worthy  
of it, but please, tell me what I must do, that you might accept me into  
your household, and permit me to become the husband of your eldest  
daughter, who is everything to me. Give me your blessing and I shall  
care for her until the end of my days.  
  
At a little past one in the morning the bell ringing was done. I let go  
of Miyazawa's hand and stood up. I must have done it a little too  
suddenly, because she looked up at me, looking concerned.  
  
"I really should go. Tomorrow is New Year's Day. I presume you have much  
to do tomorrow." I bowed low. "Thank you for your hospitality."  
  
"Oh, must you go?" said Mrs. Miyazawa. "Well, it's been a pleasure  
having you over."  
  
Tsukino nodded. "You should come over next New Year's as well."  
  
I nodded and smiled politely. "I wonder if I should."  
  
"Ask us first," said Mr. Miyazawa.  
  
I laughed. "Of course, Mr. Miyazawa. Well, I must be off." I bowed  
again, wished them a Happy New Year and made to head for the door. It  
would be a long night, and only colder from here. I was not sure yet  
where I would go after this. Perhaps to Hideaki's. He promised he would  
wait until three.  
  
Perhaps to the Pure Land.  
  
I heard Miyazawa stood up suddenly. "Ari-MA," she said, or rather sang.  
  
I looked back to face her. She was wearing her so-called "winningest  
smile," clasping her hands in front of her chest. She walked up to me,  
directly in front. "You know, I never gave you your Christmas present.  
It's in my room. Come on, you can't go 'til I give it to you. You want  
it, right?"  
  
I did not understand. "But you..."  
  
Her smile evaporated, and she looked me in the eye. "No I didn't."  
  
Tsukino and Kano looked at each other. I do not know how much they heard  
Christmas Eve night, but it was clear they knew enough to know their  
sister was being very liberal with the truth.  
  
"Well," I said after a moment, "all right."  
  
Miyazawa took my hand. "Excuse us mother, father, annoying sisters. We  
shall return." She led me to her bedroom.  
  
"Hurry up," said Mr. Miyazawa. "I wanna go to bed."  
  
---  
  
Miyazawa shut the bedroom door behind her, and took my head in her  
hands, gently but firmly (so as to make sure I could not avoid her  
gaze).  
  
All our words were whispers.  
  
"Explain."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You said you would explain later. You're not leaving until you do. Did  
something happen at your house?"  
  
"It has nothing to do with you."  
  
"I love you! It has everything to do with me! Tell me!"  
  
"Yes. Come to think of it, perhaps it does." I told her what little I  
thought she would let me go with. "My cousins picked a fight with me. I  
lost my temper and it got completely out of hand. My parents got into a  
fight with my relatives, my aunt threatened to bring in the police, and  
I panicked and ran off." She let me go. I hung my head. "I'm sorry. I  
shouldn't have come here tonight. This isn't your problem. Look. Hideaki  
knows. He said I could spend a few days with him. I might do that, I  
might not. I don't know yet."  
  
"I've met your folks, Arima! You think they aren't worried sick? They're  
probably moving heaven and earth to..."  
  
"For all I know so are the police. I can't stay here. Your parents would  
be harboring a fugitive. They could be sent to jail as well, and for all  
I know you too. I don't want that."  
  
"And Asapin wouldn't be? No. Don't go out there, it's cold. You can stay  
here. We did this for Tsubasa, I'm sure I told you that. You think we  
wouldn't for you?"  
  
"Tsubasa had no right to impose herself like that. I have still less.  
Miyazawa..."  
  
But that was all I got a chance to say. Miyazawa had embraced me tightly  
and kissed me as deeply as she could. I could not help but relax in her  
embrace, and that may have been the idea.  
  
Eventually she let me go. She was smiling, genuinely this time. "It's  
all right. Stay here tonight. You'll be safe with me. Okay?"  
  
My guardian angel had never looked so beautiful.  
  
I hesitated. "But what about..."  
  
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Firmly. "Okay?"  
  
I capitulated. "Okay."  
  
Then she looked back at the door shut behind us and looked a bit  
apprehensive. "'Course, now I actually gotta ask Mom and Dad if it's all  
right for you to stay over."  
  
---  
  
We emerged from the bedroom, and returned to the living room to find the  
Miyazawas staring expectantly towards the door.  
  
"Well, did you give it to him dear?" said Mrs. Miyazawa. "May I see what  
it is?"  
  
"Well, Mrs. Miyazawa..." I started.  
  
"You can't," said Miyazawa.  
  
"Oh?" said Tsukino Miyazawa.  
  
"I gave him a big ol' smooch. I couldn't let you guys see that. I mean,  
come on. It'd be embarrassing. Jeez."  
  
"Ah, young love," said Kano.  
  
"Well," said Mrs. Miyazawa, not unkindly, "I'm glad _that_ was taken  
  
care of. All right, we'd better let you be getting home, Soichiro.  
You're right, we've a long day tomorrow. Yukino, do you want to see him  
out, or shall I?"  
  
"Well..." Miyazawa looked apprehensive. "Do you mind if Arima spends the  
night?"  
  
"What!?" Mr Miyazawa looked like he couldn't believe his ears. "Boys and  
girls shouldn't sleep in the same room after the age of seven! Yukino,  
have you gone _mad_?"  
  
"Actually, Dad, I really don't think he'd object to taking the couch."  
  
"No," I added, a bit embarrassed. "the couch is fine."  
  
"Oh," said Mr. Miyazawa. "Yes. I suppose he could sleep there. Wait! NO!  
What if he gets horny and attacks you in the middle of the night?"  
  
Miyazawa buried her face in her hands. "Daddy, don't worry, trust me. He  
wouldn't have the guts." I didn't know what to make of that, to be  
honest. "And if he does I'll scream, and you can use the old shotgun on  
him. Okay, Dad? Just say yes, for God's sake."  
  
"Oh. Right. Shotgun. Good point. I guess it's all right."  
  
I looked at Miyazawa in disbelief. "Your father has a shotgun? Does he  
have a permit to..."  
  
"Don't ask, I don't know. He almost brought it to the parent-teacher  
conference with Kawashima, if you can believe that. Just don't ask."  
  
"Well, I don't mind that as such," put in Mrs. Miyazawa, "but I'm amazed  
your parents wouldn't want you home on New Year's Eve." She paused.  
"Actually, Soichiro, I've been wondering about that all evening. Is it  
all right for you to be here?"  
  
I looked away and kept silent. Lying would have only made matters worse.  
  
"Soichiro, do your parents know where you are?"  
  
I finally said, "I don't know. I doubt it." Actually I was fairly sure  
they didn't. If they did, I was sure, the police would already have  
arrived. I looked up. Mrs. Miyazawa's expression was still not unkindly-  
-I don't think I have ever seen it completely so--but it had become very  
sad.  
  
"Soichiro, what's your phone number?"  
  
"Mrs. Miyazawa, you don't understand. The situation at home is rather  
difficult. I--"  
  
"Yukino, what is it?"  
  
Miyazawa told her. Mrs. Miyazawa made me to sit on the couch, with  
Miyazawa. The sisters hovered, apprehensive.  
  
"I probably shouldn't, but it'd be rude not to offer," said Mr. Miyazawa  
suddenly. I had only heard him speak in so sober a tone once, at the  
meeting with Mr. Kawashima. "Do you want some sweet sake?"  
  
"Is it all right?" I asked.  
  
"I don't know, but you look like you could use it."  
  
I did not refuse. He poured me a small glass, which I picked up to drink  
with my right hand, while Miyazawa was now the one to hold my left hand  
a bit too tightly.  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa went into the corridor to the telephone and dialed the  
number.  
  
"Hello? Arima residence? To whom am I speaking please?...Hello, Mr.  
Arima. Happy New Year. Sorry to disturb you at this hour. This is Miyako  
Miyazawa. We met at the parent-teacher conference in the spring. I'm  
Yukino's mother...Yes, we sometimes wonder where we got her ourselves...   
Yes...Yes. I suppose I should get to the point. Your son showed up here   
about ten-forty-five. I thought something might be wrong, but he said   
nothing until now. I'm sorry for not calling earlier...You did? I see. That   
is just as well, yes...Yes, as far as I can tell. He seems very distraught,   
though. He hasn't said why. I think he's afraid to go home for some reason.   
Did something happen?...Yes...Yes. I understand. I wouldn't want to talk   
about it over the telephone either...No, that's all right. Not at this   
hour. I actually was going to ask if he could stay here tonight. I think   
he'd feel safer here...No, it's all right, really. This is beside the   
point, but we've done this before. Not often, of course, but...No, he was   
no trouble. He was a pleasure to entertain, we all had a wonderful time. I   
just wish it had been under better circumstances, that's all...All right.   
I'm sorry about this, really. I hope you had no relatives visiting. I   
suspect they must be as worried as you are. Give them my regards...Oh. I   
see. All right. When would you like him to come home? I'll send Yukino with  
him...Oh. Well, I don't see why not...When? Well, we'd planned to leave   
about eleven in the morning, but we have all day, really. We can wait, if   
that's inconvenient...Of course. Take your time."  
  
I tried to speak up. "How is father?"  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa looked in towards me. "From what I can tell, glad you're  
all right, mostly."  
  
Mother must have come on the line again, because she retreated back into  
the corridor and went on:  
  
"Yes...No, that's all right, if that's what you'd like to do. I'd be  
honored. Let me ask my husband first." She poked her head in and looked  
towards Mr. Miyazawa. "Honey, the Arimas want to come with us to temple  
tomorrow. Is that all right?"  
  
He was clearly surprised. "Sure, I guess...not that I care, but is there  
any particular reason why?"  
  
"Mr. Arima said, 'We have much to discuss.' I'm not sure what that  
means."  
  
Mr. Miyazawa looked nervous. "Is that a good sign? I can't tell."  
  
Neither could I. I had finished my sake. I had drunk it too quickly, and  
it had hit me quicker than I thought it would. My right hand was shaking  
visibly.  
  
"Mr. Arima? My husband has no objection...Then it's settled. You'll be  
there at eleven then?...All right. That's fine.... It's all right, Mr.  
Arima, really. I don't blame you. Or Soichiro for that matter...All  
right. I had better let you go to bed. I suspect you've had quite an  
evening....All right. See you tomorrow morning...Happy New Year to you  
too. Good night."  
  
She hung up and came back into the living room. "Soichiro, your parents  
wanted me to tell you your relations are gone. It's all right for you to  
come home." She paused. "Actually they had a fairly good idea you might  
have come here. At any rate, they couldn't think of anywhere else you  
would go. They were actually getting worried when nobody called from  
here. Perhaps they were afraid it would be the police, or nobody at  
all."  
  
I was not sure what to say. "I see."  
  
"You should have said something before."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Miyazawa. I apologize for causing such trouble for you  
at this time of year."  
  
"No, no...you did the right thing. Look," she went on, "just be glad  
you've somewhere to go. Not everyone does. Right, honey?"  
  
She looked at her husband. His expression had clouded a little, but I  
felt it best not to ask why. "Right."  
  
"I'll go find a spare sheet," said Tsukino.  
  
---  
  
Alcohol is a perverse drug. My sleep was fitful, but for all that it  
came much more quickly than it should have.  
  
The couch smelt like Miyazawa.  
  
The first dream of the New Year is said to be auspicious. I thought I  
had returned to the factory, the sky as red as blood, the stacks as  
black as ink. In the distance I thought I saw a couple embracing  
closely, a man in black, a woman in white. I walked closer to see who it  
was.  
  
"I've been expecting you," said the man.  
  
"I am honored to meet you at last," said the woman.  
  
I could now see them, but I would have known them at any event, for the  
man was the devil with my face, in a uniform as black as ink, and the  
woman the angel with Miyazawa's, her kimono now completely white, with  
no motif of any kind. I was horrified, and tried to run towards the  
angel to warn her, but suddenly my arms were held in grips of iron. I  
looked, and Mrs. Miyazawa was on my right, and my mother on my left,  
both in kimonos, their faces expressionless masks.  
  
I screamed my warning at the angel. "No! That's not me! I swear it!  
Don't let him deceive you! It's a trick! Get away from him!"  
  
The angel looked towards me, and said, "Why do you say that? I know this  
is you. Why else do you think I embrace him? He could defile me no more  
than could you defile me, or I either you or him." She smiled as she  
spoke, but her words and her face were without a hint of guile, mockery  
or lust. "Leave us," she added, apparently to the ones at my side. I  
felt the grip on my arms fade. I turned to look, and my mother and Mrs.  
Miyazawa had disappeared as quickly as they had come. I tried to run  
towards the angel, but she and the devil were already before me.  
  
The angel looked towards the devil. "Take his left hand, and I shall  
take his right."  
  
"No!" I said, and tried to interpose myself between them. "I know him,  
he's not to be trusted. Get away!"  
  
Then she spoke to me softly. "You could not drive him off alone. For  
that matter there is no need. Come. We must speak again. I was sure that  
when I visited before that would have sufficed, but I fear that this  
one" (here she indicated the devil) "had done his job too well. It is  
not well to needlessly dole out half-measures, but more than a measure  
is wasteful itself."  
  
The devil put his hand behind his head, and laughed nervously. "Lady  
Yukino, forgive me..."  
  
"It does not matter. Perhaps it is I who doled out a half-measure. Come,  
Soichiro Arima. Do not shrink from this one. Offer him your hand. There  
is something we must discuss, but it cannot be done here. I neither can  
nor care to drive this one off. I cannot bear you up from here alone."  
  
"Is he my soul? My true self?"  
  
"In a manner of speaking, yes, or rather he is part of it. But he is not  
the truth behind a mask. There is no mask."  
  
I still did not understand, but I swallowed hard and offered the devil  
my left hand, and the angel took my right. I felt myself lifted towards  
the air, and suddenly we were no longer in the factory, but in a sky no  
longer red as blood but blue, as pale as glass. I looked at the angel  
and the devil, and on my right, holding the hand of the angel, were two  
other angels with the faces of Miyazawa's sisters, themselves in white  
kimonos like hers, differing only in that for no apparent reason bearing  
the motifs Ramen and Rice. On my left, holding onto the devil, were a  
being looking like Hideaki Asaba, dressed in a black uniform, and one  
like Tsubasa Shibahime, dressed in a child's bat costume. Strangely  
enough, though, the being with Tsubasa's face wore the bat costume well.  
  
The angel surely saw I did not understand, for she went on, "The two of  
us together, indeed, could not bear you up alone. All of these and more  
are part of you and bear up your burden."  
  
"Two little angels!" said the angel with Kano's face.  
  
"Or something like that," said the one with Tsukino's.  
  
"A handsome devil!" said the devil with Hideaki's face.  
  
"And a bat out of hell," said the devil with my face. The one with  
Tsubasa's hissed and tried to scratch, and the line was almost broken.  
  
"Come, come, Reiji," said the angel, "the time for masks is over."  
  
I looked at him. His face was pensive, and ashamed. I tried to ask him  
what the angel meant, but he spoke first. "I owe someone a great deal.  
This is my punishment."  
  
"Father, is it now at an end? Can you now rest?"  
  
"I do not know. I have no family any more. I have abandoned them, and  
they have forsaken me. For I betrayed the trust of my mother and father.  
Hence I have no grave. Look below."  
  
I did so. The stacks of the factory were no longer black but silver,  
dusted with snow. I looked to the angel to ask what he meant, but she  
said only, "Arima, you need to clean yourself up."  
  
"So I can enter the Pure Land?"  
  
"No, silly!" Kano had broken the line, and for no apparent reason was  
holding a towel and soap. "Because you look like a bum!"  
  
"Oh God, he's still half asleep! Arima, wake up! It's half past ten!  
Your folks'll be here soon! You can't go to temple looking like that!  
We've all been ready for ages!"  
  
I was back on the couch. My Miyazawa was already in her kimono, and was  
shaking me violently. Kano was in her _nadeshiko_ kimono, still holding  
the towel and soap, which she passed to Miyazawa.  
  
"Oh. Good morning." I sat up. "Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"  
  
"We thought you looked cute when you were asleep. Well, Sis did,  
anyway."  
  
"Speak for yourself." Miyazawa sniffed me. "P.U. You reek."  
  
My head was clear enough now for an attempt at defense. "You wore that  
yesterday too."  
  
"_I_ didn't sleep in it. 'Sides, you could take a shower just the same."  
She handed me the towel and soap. "Shower. Move."  
  
I took a shower.  
  
When I had finished, had a shave, dressed and straightened out my  
clothes on my body as best I could, I came out to see everyone dressed  
much as they had the previous evening, except for Mr. Miyazawa, who was  
impeccably groomed and wearing the suit I remembered from the parent-  
teacher conference. I mentioned that, offhandedly I thought.  
  
"I hope you like it," he said, "it's the only suit I've got."  
  
"Oh. I see," I said.  
  
"What do you mean, 'Oh, I see?' We can't all own a hospital."  
  
Miyazawa got upset. "Dad, now's really not a good time..."  
  
The bell rang. Nobody there was expecting anybody else but my parents,  
so I took the liberty of opening the door. Father had traded in his suit  
for a grey kimono, and mother had changed her own, from the dark green  
one she had worn the previous evening to a brighter, pale blue one. Both  
appeared to be in high spirits, and mother especially seemed much  
better.  
  
"Mother, father, good morning. Happy New Year."  
  
"Happy New Year, son," father said. "Are the Miyazawas here?"  
  
"Yes, father, they're still here." I inspected my clothes. "I'm sorry. I  
slept in my uniform. I'm sure I'll look quite out of place in the  
temple..."  
  
"Under the circumstances I think you'll do, son."  
  
"Mother," I asked, "how are you feeling this morning?"  
  
She laughed apologetically. "I've survived worse attacks than that. Your  
father gave me my medicine and put me to bed after everyone left."  
  
"Mother, I..."  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa entered the hall. "Mr. Arima, Mrs. Arima, it's been a long  
time. Happy New Year."  
  
"Happy New Year," said father.  
  
"Happy New Year," said mother.  
  
"Won't you come in for a moment? I've prepared some tea." I had not seen  
her prepare it. Presumably she had done it while I was washing. At any  
rate, I doubt either we, the Arimas, nor the Miyazawas were in any hurry  
to leave. So mother and father accepted, and they came into the sitting  
room where the tea was waiting for them, and they sat and exchanged  
pleasantries and observations about trifles with the Miyazawas for  
several minutes, and greeted and engaged in mutual introductions with  
Tsukino and Kano, whom they had not met before.  
  
Perhaps after a while Kano got bored, because she exclaimed, regarding  
nothing, "Oh! I know! You haven't met Peropero yet!" So she went out  
into the garden to wake up the dog and bring him in. Peropero looked at  
my parents, apparently decided they were not a threat, and sniffed them  
by way of introduction.  
  
My mother looked puzzled. "It's not important, but what sort of dog is  
that?"  
  
Nobody seemed to know. Mr. and Mrs. Miyazawa had no idea. Tsukino had  
always wondered herself. My Miyazawa scratched her head, and said that  
all she knew was they had picked him up at an animal shelter one day.  
"He doesn't have a pedigree, if that's what you mean..."  
  
Kano, for her part, thought the question silly. "He's Peropero. He's  
cool. What do you want?"  
  
Father looked thoughtful, and smiled. "Yes. I suppose you could be  
right. That reminds me. Mr. and Mrs. Miyazawa, I'm sure you'd rather not  
have us loitering here and drinking tea all day. Shall we move on?"  
  
It was generally agreed that we should, so everyone put on their shoes  
and headed out the door and proceeded on foot towards the temple, which  
apparently was just down the road. "We don't have a car, so we can't go  
that far," Miyazawa said to me. "'Sides, it's a bit more family quality  
time, you know?"  
  
"We always drove to ours."  
  
"Yeah, well. I kind of like it this way. Probably not as fancy as the  
place you go to. We're not into family temples and stuff, we're not that  
high class."  
  
"Trust me, Miyazawa, I couldn't care less about that right now."  
  
A woman and a little girl, mother and daughter I presume, passed us on  
the road, apparently having been to temple and returned. The child  
cannot have been more than five years old. She was clad in a red kimono,  
and was cheerfully holding a kite in her right hand, while her mother  
led her by her left.  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa began. "You told me last night that you had much to  
discuss with us, Mr. Arima. I wonder what you meant by that."  
  
"Mrs. Miyazawa, your family were brought into my family's disputes  
against your will. I owe you an explanation, at the very least."  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa nodded a little, as if something like this had been  
expected.  
  
Father continued. "My wife and I have raised Soichiro as our own, but we  
did not bring him to birth. His real father was my brother, Reiji." He  
looked very sad and old. "Of all my brothers Reiji was the one I loved  
the best. There is much of him in Soichiro, the better qualities, I  
mean. However, he was not happy in the Arima family. In particular, he  
had no head for or interest in medicine, which is the family profession,  
and he rebelled against the pressures from the rest of the family. He  
found solace elsewhere. In drink, and in drugs, which made him cruel."  
  
Father hung his head. Mother held his hand, in consolation, I suppose,  
though I have rarely seen them touch even that much in my presence.  
  
"Reiji was a good boy. He just got lost. I have sworn Soichiro won't  
suffer the same fate. I'm sorry. This is beside the point."  
  
Father went on to tell a little about the circumstances of my adoption  
by him, against the wishes of the family, and of aunt Eiko in  
particular. To save me the burden perhaps, he also said a little of what  
had happened the previous evening before I fled. It is useless repeating  
what he said, because of necessity he knew less than I did. I shall only  
note that at the mention of my mother's having a mild attack she had to  
reassure Mrs. Miyazawa that she was feeling much better. What was new  
were the details of what transpired after.  
  
"I would have pursued him, but I feared leaving my wife in her  
condition. My sister felt no such restraint, and made to chase him,  
cursing his folly in thinking he could try to escape. It fell to her  
husband to restrain her.  
  
"'Let the boy go,' he said. 'It'll sort itself out. If he really is just  
like Reiji, so much the better. He'll come back when he runs out of  
money and we'll sort him out then.'  
  
"My brother-in-law laughed loudly at that as if he had made an excellent  
joke. It shames me to say it, but some of the others did laugh.  
  
"My sister shook off her husband's grip and turned on him. 'Sort itself  
out? I've waited twelve miserable years for it to sort itself out.  
What's the matter with you? You're going to roll over and let that  
wretch get away with this and let your own flesh and blood be cheated  
out of what's theirs?'  
  
"This may sound strange, but the impression I got of my sister just then  
was of nothing so much as a spoiled child. There was something she  
wasn't telling me. So I asked, 'Eiko, what in blazes are you talking  
about now?'"  
  
"'What do you think I'm talking about?' she said. 'This ends tonight. If  
you'd planned to let that little ruffian have the hospital, you're  
deluding yourself!'  
  
"I mention her precise words, because I found them very interesting. As  
a matter of fact I had never settled in my own mind what was to become  
of the hospital after my death. I assumed my position at the city  
hospital--when we met before I surely told you about it--after my  
father's sudden death twelve years ago. I had had my own private  
practice before then, and my assumption of the post was, to me, less a  
privilege than a duty. Father, I imagine, had simply assumed that I  
would take his place after his death. He had never consulted me, but  
stipulated that his interest in the hospital be transferred to me in his  
will. So I did not assume the responsibility entirely willingly, but I  
loved my father, so I saw that his wishes were respected.  
  
"As for Soichiro, he had never expressed a serious interest in the  
hospital, and in fact we had never discussed it at length. Does my  
memory fail me, son?"  
  
It had not. "No, we never discussed it. In fact I am not sure I ever  
mentioned it. I had no interest in it whatever."  
  
"I had suspected that. In any event, given the ill will towards Soichiro  
among his relatives in the first place, I felt sure that thrusting it  
upon him would cause him more misfortune than it was worth. Soichiro has  
been the best son a father could hope for. I felt sure that he would do  
well for himself in life, hospital or no hospital. Moreover, I had no  
intention of even driving him towards a medical career, for that, I  
remain sure, was the ruin of his father Reiji. If he rejected medicine  
the hospital would be of no use to him in any case.  
  
"Hence it is possible that my brother's actions against society and our  
family were never the sole cause of my family's animosity towards  
Soichiro, least of all my sister's. I am now sure--and to be honest, I  
am not entirely certain why I did not realize it sooner--was that my  
sister wanted the hospital for her sons, and was bitterly disappointed  
when my wife and I adopted Reiji's son, and thus had, at least in her  
mind, a more direct heir whose claim would supersede theirs. So, it  
seems she had resolved to say and do whatever it took to push Soichiro  
aside, and she used Reiji's memory to turn the rest of the family  
against the boy, and me. She jumped at the opportunity she thought  
Soichiro had dropped in her lap.  
  
"I should have known better. My sister has been like this since  
childhood. In her way she was worse than Reiji ever was, much worse. She  
would do anything to get what she wanted. She was a natural leader, too,  
and she used it to her advantage. Father--"  
  
Mother cut him off, gently but firmly. "Husband, please. You're still  
angry with her. Don't talk like that. It doesn't matter any more."  
  
"No. I suppose it doesn't. You're right. That is beside the point."  
Father resumed. "I mentioned what my sister had said. I thought about  
that a moment, and I said to her, 'Sister, tell me this. Who said  
anything about the hospital?'"  
  
"My sister froze, perhaps realizing she had given herself away. She had  
made vague remarks about how I should not let Soichiro think he had any  
claim to the Arima family fortune, but I had simply ignored her then. My  
own property was mine, I thought, to do as I pleased with. I had never  
let my sister intimidate me, and I was not going to begin to do so. What  
gave her away, I think, was how much more specific she had been."  
  
Miyazawa was walking right beside me, her look pensive. She said, in a  
low voice, "Yes, keeping up an airtight front isn't as easy as it looks,  
is it?" I am not sure father heard, and I said nothing in reply.  
  
Father went on. "My sister said nothing in response, so I asked her to  
confirm what I told you, whether all this was about the hospital and  
never about Reiji in the first place. Her response was to curse at me  
and condemn me for talking such rot, but her look told me I had hit on  
the truth."  
  
Mother joined in. "My husband added something else. I don't think I'll  
forget it as long as I live. He said it to Eiko, but it was really, I  
think, to the whole family."  
  
"Yes, wife, I suppose it was."  
  
"They had stood there mostly silent the whole time. Perhaps they were  
afraid to do anything but watch the spectacle unfold before them. He  
said, 'What is the meaning of this? You'd destroy the life of my only  
son and for all you know kill my wife with shock, all for the sake of a  
miserable family business?' He had risen to his full height when  
accusing Eiko, but he had stayed by my side the whole time. I don't know  
whether I loved him more or feared him more at that moment. He went on  
to ask, 'This is supposed to be a family?'"  
  
Father resumed. "I do not know if my sister knew it was too late to save  
herself, but in any event she tried to compose herself and, I suppose,  
tried another tack as a last resort, and tried to sound conciliatory.  
'Come now, brother. We both have our family's best interests at heart.  
We all defend our own, right? Besides, I really think my sons would make  
the family's best heirs, don't you? The boy's taken his mask off,  
involuntarily perhaps, but it's done. You really want someone with such  
an anti-social nature to run the family hospital?'"  
  
Mr. Miyazawa spoke up. "So what did you say?"  
  
"I'll tell you what I said," father replied. "I said, 'Eiko, I didn't  
ask for the hospital. Soichiro never wanted the hospital. You wanted the  
hospital, and by God, woman, you'll get the hospital, even if it kills  
you!'  
  
"I do not know if Soichiro knew it himself, but I thought he had made a  
very good point. If nothing but that would satisfy her, why not? No  
building is worth a son. Or a beloved wife."  
  
Mother blushed and looked away. Mr. Miyazawa was clearly shocked. Mrs.  
Miyazawa now spoke. "So what did you do?"  
  
"I addressed myself to the whole gathering then, and told them this. On  
the 4th of January, when business resumes, I shall sign over my interest  
in the hospital to my brother-in-law Yotaro, and resign my position as  
president immediately after. That will be my settlement of my son's debt  
to him. I will recognize no other debt, and will pay no other."  
  
"But what will you do now?" asked Mrs. Miyazawa.  
  
"I have some savings. I'll use it to re-establish my private practice  
that I had for so many years. It will not be as lucrative perhaps, but  
my reputation is still sound in the local medical community, at least  
for now. I am not worried about that.  
  
"That is not all. Once I had said that, I told them, 'Family, my  
patience with you is at an end. You have forced me to choose between you  
and my wife and son, and I have chosen. Now it is your turn. Either you  
will take back all the hateful things you have said about Soichiro or  
you will leave here this instant and not return until you are able to do  
that. The choice is yours.'  
  
"I am not sure how I expected Eiko to respond to that. Perhaps with  
anger. Her actual response, I dare say, was less of anger than of  
satisfaction. 'Very well,' she said, 'that's it then. We'll see  
ourselves out. Happy New Year.'  
  
"And with that she led Yukio towards the door, and motioned her children  
and husband to follow her. They hesitated, but finally they obeyed. When  
Yotaro made to leave, he said something else about a hospital bill. I  
told him to do what he liked."  
  
Mother finished the story. "When Eiko was at the door my husband said  
something else to her. 'Eiko,' he said, 'I have done with entertaining  
at New Year's. You must now get your turn.' She turned at his words, but  
said nothing in response, but left the room, and, I presume, went  
downstairs and out the door, with her husband and children behind her.  
The rest of the family stood there for a few moments, then, one by one,  
filed out of the room, down the stairs and out the door, and were gone.  
And that was that. My husband put me to bed and looked after me, while  
we waited for news of Soichiro."  
  
We were all silent. Everyone, I suppose, was taking a moment to digest  
the tale themselves, myself included.  
  
Finally Tsukino Miyazawa spoke up. "Um, Mr. Arima? So you, like,  
resigned from the Arima family?"  
  
Father thought a moment. He smiled a little. "In a manner of speaking,  
yes."  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa seemed not sure what to think. "Mr. Arima. Was that  
necessary?"  
  
"I do not know. Perhaps it was, or something like it. At any rate, it is  
done. I don't know if you remember, Mrs. Miyazawa. During the spring at  
the conference with Mr. Kawashima, I told him that if my son got into  
trouble in the future we'd work through it together. I like to think I  
am a man of my word." He turned to me. "Something else. Soichiro."  
  
"Yes father?"  
  
"Keitaro called early this morning. From the hospital."  
  
"How is Yukio?"  
  
"He'll be all right, eventually. He is seriously injured, but  
fortunately, nothing was life threatening. He will be marked, but that  
may serve as a lesson." Father paused for breath. "Keitaro said he had  
reprimanded his brothers severely for their stupidity. When their mother  
was not there, I mean. He said he had no sympathy at all for his  
brother. He thought Yukio got what he deserved. That's why he didn't try  
to stop you from leaving. You are in his debt. I should not have lumped him  
in with his brothers. I spoke too harshly."  
  
"I see."  
  
"It is possible that he and his brothers only left out of fear of your  
aunt. Perhaps so did all the others. Keitaro spoke softly. He may have  
feared discovery. At any rate, it seems it had become quite clear to him  
and his brothers that this was bigger than they were, so to speak, and  
they had little to gain and much to lose by getting involved. It seems  
as well Eiko was still talking about the courts. So they agreed,  
secretly for now, not to testify against you if it came to that."  
  
I did not know what to say. Mr. Miyazawa took his turn. "Will it?"  
  
Father thought a moment. "I do not know. If it does, I'll do everything  
in my power to defend my son. But I doubt it somehow." He sighed deeply.  
"My sister, for better or worse, has picked the leadership of the  
family that I let slip from my grasp. Now, she has the family business  
as well." His voice was controlled, as always, but it had harshened   
audibly. "She won't bother us again. She has what she wants. I dare say   
she's content."  
  
There was another moment of silence before mother spoke again. "I  
suspect when Soichiro came to your house he was sure he had no family  
any more. This morning we showed up on your doorstep with the same  
complaint, Mrs. Miyazawa. Isn't that strange?"  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa face was blank. "Yes. I suppose it is."  
  
"We are in your debt. For that matter we owe your daughter a service as  
well. But for her, God alone knows where Soichiro would have gone."  
  
Miyazawa spoke up at last. "Mrs. Arima, it wasn't like that at all."  
  
Mother looked at her. "It's quite all right."  
  
"No...no...look. Arima, you'll probably kick me for saying this...he'd  
told me a little about the Arimas already. Not a lot, but..."  
  
I suddenly felt very ashamed. "Mother. I'm sorry. I had no right..."  
  
"It doesn't matter, Soichiro. Go on, Yukino."  
  
"Anyway, he told me he _really_ wasn't looking forward to New Year's at  
your place, so I invited him over to my house. I didn't think anything  
like this'd happen. I just thought it'd be nice. I figured he'd at least  
have fun with us, but he said no, you and Mr. Arima expected him to be  
there. So when he actually showed up I was pretty surprised, and I  
didn't think he'd come so Mom and Dad were even more surprised, so that  
was kind of a tip-off I guess. It was nice though. We played karaoke,  
watched the bells on TV. It was fun."  
  
"He was no trouble, really," added Mrs. Miyazawa.  
  
"That's beside the point," said father. "You took care of him. So did  
Yukino. She takes very good care of our Soichiro." He smiled a little.  
"She'd make any man a good wife. I'm tempted to ask if you had found her  
a husband yet."  
  
Miyazawa jumped back as if she'd been shot. "Wh-wh-WHAT?"  
  
I felt myself go quite red. "Father. Stop it. This is embarrassing."  
  
The sisters pounced. "Whoo hoo! Guess it's official! This calls for a  
song, Tsukino!"  
  
Miyazawa groaned. "No, oh please no..."  
  
"Thought you'd never ask, Kano!" They began to dance and sing,  
attracting extremely curious looks from passers-by. At least one old  
woman turned around and walked much more quickly in the other direction.  
  
"It was a teenage wedding and the old folks wished them well  
You could tell that Pierre did truly love the mademoiselle..."  
  
"I'm never borrowing Maho's CDs again," said Miyazawa.  
  
Mother for her part was not at all sure what to make of the sisters.  
Perhaps their switching from perfect behavior to sheer absurdity was too  
much for her. "Yes. Yukino, your sisters are very...um...high-spirited..."  
  
"Keep them, they're yours."  
  
"'_C'est la vie_,' say the old folks, it goes to show you never can  
tell..."  
  
"Seriously?" said Mrs. Miyazawa. "We hadn't even thought about it. We  
had nothing like that ourselves, so..."  
  
"Mr. Arima," said Mr. Miyazawa, showing remarkable restraint when I  
thought of it, "do you know what you're saying? Don't you think they're  
a little young for that sort of thing?"  
  
"Perhaps it is a foolish thing to say," said father. "We had in fact not  
done much about it ourselves. I only want you to think about it."  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa thought a moment. "Mrs. Arima. Do not misunderstand me,  
but it seems to me that many people have come to see our household as an  
island of sanity in an insane world. Does that sound strange to you?"  
  
My Miyazawa got upset. "Sorry, Mom! I don't do this on purpose!"  
  
Mother did not look happy either. "Mrs. Miyazawa, I apologize..."  
  
"No...no. I should explain." said Mrs. Miyazawa. "I was glad to have   
Soichiro with us at New Year's. The truth is, however, that I had invited   
my father to spend the holiday with us, and I would have been even happier   
if he had been there as well. I have invited him every year, and he has   
never come. You see, he objected to my marrying my husband. He is getting   
very old now, and I have asked him to come live with us many times. It's   
getting harder for him to live by himself, but he'll never admit that. As   
it is, he has not visited our house even once, at New Year's or at any   
other time. For the children's sake, I used to bring them to spend   
Christmas night with him. Now, I bring them to see him once a year, in the   
summer, whether he wants us to come or not. Even then, he and my husband   
fight constantly. Let me put it this way. I hope and pray I never have to   
make a choice like you had."  
  
Mother thought about that. "A housecleaning at New Year's can only be so  
thorough."  
  
"That's one way of putting it." Mrs. Miyazawa laughed apologetically.  
"I'm so sorry. I really shouldn't vent like this, not on New Year's  
Day..."  
  
"That's all right," said father. "We've burdened you with far more  
today."  
  
Mother smiled. "It might mean we are already family."  
  
Mrs. Miyazawa looked thoughtful. "Yes. I suppose it might."  
  
We had reached the temple. What little of the clouds from last night had  
dissipated, and the sky was pure blue, as pale as glass. The temple gate  
itself was small, but still more welcoming than the other one ever had  
seemed to me. A family emerged from within.  
  
I looked at Miyazawa, who was herself looking up at the clear sky. She  
seemed to have relaxed, and now seemed to be in high spirits, as if  
having the Arimas as family was a pleasant idea to her. Possibly it was  
a mask. Or possibly it was another side to herself I had not seen  
before. I had begun to doubt there was any real difference.  
  
"All right, Kano," said Tsukino, "last inside gives Peropero his first  
walk of the New Year!" She dashed towards the gate as quickly as anybody  
wearing a kimono reasonably can.  
  
"Tsukino! Wait for me!"  
  
---  
  
There remains very little still to tell.  
  
After we had finished at the temple, I had planned to return home with  
mother and father, but Miyazawa reminded me that we had agreed to go see  
some other people on our own. So she and I politely excused ourselves,  
with Miyazawa promising to bring me back home when I was done. Mother,  
father and Mrs. Miyazawa had no objection. The real problems came from  
the sisters teasing us about acting like a married couple already, and  
Mr. Miyazawa getting in a state and insisting he was sure Mr. Arima  
hadn't given his final approval yet, and he certainly hadn't, and I was a   
fool if I thought I was going to "jump the gun" with "his little princess."  
Miyazawa ignored them and walked off towards Tsubasa Shibahime's with a  
look of disgust on her face, with me in tow.  
  
As it happened this was the first chance I had had to meet Tsubasa's new  
mother, so this was a particular pleasure. Tsubasa answered the door. The   
Shibahimes had just returned from temple themselves, and while Miyazawa cooed   
over Tsubasa's kimono I asked her how she and her new mother were getting   
along.  
  
"Okay, I guess," she said cheerfully. "You'd like her. She's a lot like  
Miyazawa."  
  
Mrs. Shibahime was a pleasant, slender, fairly pretty woman in her late  
thirties. Apparently she was a nurse, and had met Mr. Shibahime when  
Tsubasa was in the hospital. She had gone to temple in kimono, while her  
son Kazuma, who apparently plays rock music in various clubs, had  
apparently turned out in jeans, a black t-shirt and a skull bracelet.  
  
"These _are_ my best threads, man!" he insisted.  
  
Afterwards we went to see Hideaki. Miyazawa had never seen his apartment  
before, and was horrified at the disorder. Hideaki looked rather  
disheveled himself (he was still in his nightshirt), and Miyazawa said so.   
He was in high spirits, though, and took it in good humor.  
  
"So, your folks here too?" he asked us.  
  
"No, stupid," I said. "Why would they be?"  
  
"I dunno. Damn, you're like a married couple already." He made a big  
show of breaking down. "Oh Soichiro, how could you?"  
  
"Cut it out, moron!"  
  
He stopped. "Just kidding."  
  
He gave us some soda and we talked, Miyazawa and I (a little) about our  
New Year's party, he about his changing jobs. We had fun.  
  
At length we left Hideaki's apartment. As it happens it is within  
walking distance of the factory. I looked up at the stacks from the  
street outside the apartment block. They stood tall in the clear blue  
sky, silver dusted with snow. I thought of bringing Miyazawa there. I  
could not bring her to meet father. Perhaps I could do at least this.  
  
"Say. You want to go see your cousin? At the hospital. Spending New Year's   
there's gotta be rough, you know."  
  
I looked at her shocked. "Why?"  
  
Her expression was deadly serious. "So you can tell him you're sorry for   
kicking his butt! You owe him!"  
  
But there was no point. Reiji was not there.  
  
"Yes. I suppose I should. Though I suspect I shan't be terribly welcome..."  
  
She hit me gently in the arm. "Arima, don't ever do anything like that  
again, okay? I can look after myself!"  
  
"That was really stupid, wasn't it?"  
  
"Uh, yeah."  
  
"Happy New Year to you too."  
  
"Say, what's your New Year's resolution?"  
  
I had not thought about it. "I'm not sure. What's yours?"  
  
She was silent a moment. "To never become like your aunt."  
  
"Why? You think you could?"  
  
"You don't know. If I hadn't met you I just might have. She sounded so  
much like me--the old me--it scared me."  
  
"The old you wasn't that bad."  
  
"You want the Queen of Fake back?"  
  
"That's not what I mean. I mean they were both you. I liked you even  
then, you know. The more I saw, the more I liked. I see more every day."  
  
She shrugged and smiled. "Okay, if you say so..."  
  
"Miyazawa?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"I was the first to see the you your family saw, right?"  
  
"Yes, I think so. Why?"  
  
"Does that make me family too?"  
  
She thought about that. "Maybe. Yeah, I think so. Along with Tsubasa and   
Asapin and Maho and those. They've seen a bunch of me too. Probably not  
as much, of course, but..."  
  
"What do you mean exactly by that?"  
  
"I mean I ain't marrying you yet, so forget it!" She stuck out her  
tongue. I laughed and let it go at that, and we started to walk back.  
  
"Miyazawa, I think I know what my resolution is."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I shall stop worrying about turning into my father."  
  
"Oh. Okay. You don't think you will any more?"  
  
"I might have if I hadn't met you. Kiss?"  
  
She blushed. "Okay."  
  
I kissed her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw an old woman in a red  
kimono pass by, but she did not turn and run.  
  
"Miyazawa?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What did you mean by 'yet?'"  
  
"Did I say that?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Um."  
  
I'm not sure Miyazawa appreciated my having the first victory of the New   
Year, but she did not seem to let it bother her too much.  
  
TSUZUKU  



End file.
